


In the Pleasure of Your Company

by Desiree_Harding



Series: Everything I Ever Did Was Just Another Way to Scream Your Name [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Dates, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, New Relationship, Smoking, Some Fluff, basically it's Taako having a whole lot of feelings, don't smoke kids it's not cool it's unhealthy, so much introspection, some are about Kravitz and some are about Lup and all of them are Big, very casual discussion of sex but nothing remotely explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28742859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desiree_Harding/pseuds/Desiree_Harding
Summary: “One more thing,” he says, “what’s your name, handsome?”Tall, dark, and handsome smiles. “Kravitz,” he says, and Taako squeezes his hand once, and then releases it.“Kravitz,” he says, “I’ll remember that.”A modern au in which Taako meets the love of his life, and it opens more doors than he anticipated. And maybe more than he wanted, too.
Relationships: Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Series: Everything I Ever Did Was Just Another Way to Scream Your Name [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107266
Comments: 21
Kudos: 76
Collections: The Candlenights Zone (2020 Exchange)





	In the Pleasure of Your Company

**Author's Note:**

> Joyous Candlenights to [@many-eyed-seraph](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/many-eyed-seraph) on tumblr! I hope you enjoy this journey through a Taako and Kravitz modern au relationship! 
> 
> Technically, this is a sort of companion piece to my previous work, [I Have Seen the Fields Aflame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930525) , but I believe that it can also stand on its own. It's clear throughout the story, but if you want the cheat codes, all you need to know is that Lup is not in Taako's life, and is presumed to be dead. Think of it as "what would Taako's life be like if he was missing Lup because no voidfishing" and you're there.
> 
> Have fun, and remember my fanfic cardinal rule: all hurt receives comfort, in the end.

It starts where Taako would least expect it to.

Or perhaps that’s not entirely true. Taako doesn’t  _ do _ much but work these days, doesn’t spend much time outside of his job in public, where people can see him or where he might, god forbid,  _ meet _ people. Tinder and Grindr haven’t gone anywhere, as Taako doesn’t find himself energized enough or at all in the mood these days for a booty call. And the catering schedule he works on is weird enough as it is, usually taking ups all his time on weekends and evenings. So he doesn’t know where  _ else _ he expects to meet people.

But still. Taako’s  _ working, _ doing one of the less savory things his job requires, a special service of the catering company he’s been working for where sometimes the chef’s cook live at events, and he’s stationed on the side of a massive ballroom cooking and filling mini-crêpes at some fancy networking party for… he couldn’t say. It’s always these kinds of things where they pull out the counters and ask the better chefs among those at the company to cook live. Rich people love that kind of thing. Taako hates it. And the people here are  _ rich _ . Most of their suits look like they cost more than Taako gets paid for a month of work.

So, the usual.

But  _ mini-crêpes, really _ . As though this shindig could get anymore self-consciously trendy and ostentatious. Crêpes aren’t even that hard, but boy do rich people like them. He’s got a selection of sweet and savory fillings for a few set options, and he’s solidly on autopilot, fixing, folding, and handing them out as the rich, busy professionals swing by his counter to grab at a snack. Taako knows from experience that a lot of time, people don’t get to eat much at these things. He thinks it’s a weekend conference. This is the only party he’s stationed on the floor for, at least, a good sign, but  _ fuck _ does Taako want to go home.

And then.

He looks up during a lull and there, approaching his counter, is the  _ handsomest  _ man Taako’s ever seen in his entire life.

The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, cheekbones that could cut  _ glass _ , broad-shouldered,  _ impeccable posture,  _ and the way his suit fits makes Taako have to remind himself not to be gay on the job.

Taako blinks the stars out of his eyes – he’s gotten over ogling on the job for entertainment a long time ago, and there’s no use starting now – and flashes the guy a smile.

“Sweet or savory,” he says, as the handsome guy gets up to the counter. He looks taken aback. Like he wasn’t expecting to have to make a choice here. 

“Oh,” he says. “Sweet, if you don’t mind.” Taako’s smile grows.

“If I don’t mind,” he says, and he should  _ not _ be teasing tall, dark, and handsome while he’s  _ working _ , it’s always a  _ terrible _ idea, especially with an uptight crowd like this, but, “anyone tell you that this is my job? Pretty sure I don’t get to mind.”

He has to keep the smile plastered on, instead of wincing. That was maybe a little too honest.

But TDH makes a  _ sympathetic _ face, of all things, and then, looking a bit like he’s trying to think up something to say, comes back with,

“Would you prefer if I said savory?” And Taako almost has to do a double take, because  _ excuse him? _ TDH is teasing  _ back _ .

And oh. Perhaps that could be fun.

He scopes the dude out as surreptitiously as he can. He’s willing to joke about Taako lowkey hating his job, so that’s a point in his favor, and his suit’s got  _ that _ kind of fit that makes Taako think he might… play more for Taako’s team than another, though it’s hard to tell at these things…

“Nah,” he says, applying a generous sprinkling of cinnamon sugar to TDH’S crêpe and folding it up, “the savories are all brie-themed, which like, don’t tell my colleagues, but it’s an overrated cheese.” He hands the crêpe over the counter in its little paper sleeve. TDH’s skin on his hands is so smooth. He’s commanding every ounce of Taako’s attention.

“Hey,” Taako says, before he can think better of it, and just to test the waters, “you think you could grab me a drink, my man? Handle sneaking me a flute of champagne?”

The handsomest man Taako’s ever seen in person in his entire life blinks.

“Is that allowed?” he says, and then  _ immediately  _ winces. Taako’s smile grows a little wider, involuntarily.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” he says conspiratorially. “Besides, who’s gonna mind me taking a sip of champagne? I’m furnishing you all with my incredible crêpes and I don’t even get to enjoy a taste off the wine list?”

“I suppose it’s probably a longer evening for you, back there, than for me,” he says. “And I have to admit that  _ I’ve _ been using alcohol to get through it so far.” He sounds thoughtful, and oh he  _ is  _ teasing back. Taako could die on the spot.

“See?” he says. “All the more reason you should come to my rescue, handsome.” Maybe he’s laying it on a bit thick, but he leans on the counter a little and bats his eyelashes  _ just  _ a little for good measure.

Tall, Dark, and Handsome laughs. He looks over to his side, to the little bar set up a little ways away.

“I,” he says to Taako, lifting up the crêpe as though to toast, “will be right back.” And then he’s gone.

And  _ then _ Taako’s counter gets busy.

A whole new gaggle of middle-aged white ladies in power suits comes floating over out of the crowd and Taako tries not to groan. A line forms up behind them, just for a few minutes, and Taako, busy with the sudden rush, gets only a second to look over to the bar, and see tall dark and handsome getting handed two drinks over the counter. Great. Fantastic. Amazing. No way he’s going to come back while Taako’s busy, and who knows when he’ll be free again. The loss of both the most interesting human interaction Taako’s had all night as well as the promise of a cool drink with just enough bite to pass the time sits sour on Taako’s tongue.

That is until he turns around to see the line gone.

And Tall Dark and Handsome standing  _ right  _ there, holding out a champagne flute, a half-smile on his face.

“Oh my fuck,” Taako says, with more than a little real relief in his voice, “oh my god, you came through. I knew you were cool. Oh my god.”

TDH laughs for the first time. And it’s a  _ nice _ laugh, a little inelegant, a little higher in pitch than Taako expected, and Taako’s heart, or whatever’s in charge of his attraction to mysterious strangers who do him entirely too nice favors and don’t tell on him at million-dollar cocktail parties, does a little flip.

“Sorry it’s not quite cold anymore,” he says.

“Don’t apologize for  _ anything _ ,” Taako says. “God, do you know how many times someone’s done this for me? None times, that’s how many. You’re my fucking hero.”

“High praise,” TDH says, a little dryly, but in that way that makes it sound like he’s enjoying himself.

He doesn’t leave Taako’s counter, instead leaning on it on one elbow. He looks like he’s about to say something else, and then thinks better of it. Taako can see the words rolling around in his mouth, and jumps on the chance to keep him around.

“You waited all that time for little ol’ me?” he says, starting up another crêpe. Because he might as well. “Don’t you have anybody to go schmooze out there?”

TDH’s mouth goes kind of wonky and rueful.

“I do,” he says. “But, to be honest,” and he says it a bit like he’s sharing a secret, “I hate these things. Any amount of time I can justify  _ not  _ schmoozing, I’ll take.”

“Ah. So I’m an  _ excuse _ to escape your duties.” TDH is too cute not to rib, a little. And the amount of time he’s spent talking to Taako so far is  _ very  _ encouraging. And his voice is so pretty, and Taako wants to keep him talking. Everything about him is too good to be true. Every vibe around him feels like stepping into an old-timey movie, and with the counter between them and the drinks in their hands, Taako feels like a bartender in black-and-white, witty and sharp and far too bold with his comments.

“And here I thought you might be enjoying my company,” he says.

“I am enjoying your company,” TDH says, and takes a sip from his champagne, and Taako watches the line of his throat as he swallows, and  _ wants _ .

God. Taako never does this. Taako can’t remember the last time he flirted with anyone like this. He’s at work. Taako doesn’t tend to flirt at work – or, he does, but only when he thinks it’ll take his customer service persona a step further, when he can leverage it into a tip in the midst of a tipping crowd, or when casting smiles about the room will get the company better reviews, and maybe they’ll be inclined to keep him around–

“Mm,” he says, leaping head first off the cliff, shooting his shot, and hoping beyond hope that TDH will reciprocate. “Well, you know what they say!”

TDH cocks his head slightly, smiling. He smiles like it’s a gift, like anyone can see it, and also, somehow like he’s been dying to smile like that all day, and Taako’s just now given him the chance.

“No?” he says, pleasantly bemused, “what do they say?”

“The quickest way to man’s heart is through his stomach,” Taako quips, winking, and passes the crêpe he’s been working on over the counter, and into TDH’s hand. Caramel, this time. TDH said he had a sweet tooth, after all.

It’s too pointed,  _ way _ too pointed. But it’s also  _ smooth as hell,  _ and Taako tries not to make it too evident how his heart is pounding as he waits from TDH’s response.

Tall, dark, and handsome laughs, just a low chuckle, polite for the company, but there’s an undercurrent of honesty there. Like he wants to let go, and can’t here. Taako doesn’t know how he can tell what TDH wants from only a few minutes of interaction, but somehow he can. It’s charming. Taako’s thoroughly charmed.

“Following that logic, I suppose my heart would be thoroughly taken,” TDH says, and then he almost looks surprised at himself. He draws back from the counter, and Taako’s own heart beats out of his chest a little, like it’s trying to follow.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t usually – I don’t flirt with people on the job, that was very,  _ very _ out of line –”

“Not so out of line when the person on the job is flirting back,” Taako says before TDH can get away. And he  _ should _ just let him go. He should get on with his work. He shouldn’t be thinking of ways to reel him back in and keep him in Taako’s orbit. But he  _ is _ , by far, the handsomest man he’s ever seen, and Taako doesn’t bestow that title lightly. And… Taako doesn’t want to be too optimistic, but… he actually seems nice, too. He doesn’t seem like an asshole. Not often Taako finds both in a guy.

Not that he’s looking. He’s not.

But he hasn’t had anything nice in so long, and a part of him thinks  _ Who says you can’t have a little fun? _

TDH looks at him, considering, and the moment stretches out in bullet-time, longer and longer, and Taako teeters on the edge of it, looking into TDH’s deep, dark eyes, and waiting for him to call his bluff.

TDH breathes, and time resumes.

“Well,” he says, running those long fingers over the counter, almost nervous, “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of a situation in which someone has to be nice to me for customer service… purposes,” there’s a look in his eye. Social expectations clashing with hidden wants, and Taako admires the respectability of it, the chance he’s given Taako for another out, but –

Taako doesn’t take it.

“Cool it, my man,” he says, leaning on his elbow and flashing him a smile. “You’re being real considerate, don’t worry. But here,” and he pulls a business card and a pen out of his apron pocket, scribbles his number down on the back, because what the hell? TDH is hot, and  _ nice _ , and respectful, and laughed at Taako’s jokes, and brought him a drink on the job and didn’t snitch, and –

And he’s honestly the only guy Taako’s been even remotely interested in sober in months… maybe in  _ years _ .

“So you know I’m not work-flirting,” he says, and slides the card across the counter. “It’s gotta be ethical if I make the first move, right?” he jokes, and TDH chuckles, and he’s looking at the card like he  _ very much _ wants to take it. 

“I suppose I can’t argue with you,” he says, carefully laying two fingers atop it, “if you insist.” He starts to slide it toward him, and Taako’s hand comes down over his. TDH visibly shocks at the contact, looking up, now, and into Taako’s eyes once more. His eyes are  _ beautiful _ , dark and deep and intelligent and lovely and Taako is already mourning the loss of them when TDH has to walk away – 

“One more thing,” he says, “what’s your name, handsome?”

TDH smiles. “Kravitz,” he says, and Taako squeezes his hand once, and then releases it.

“Kravitz,” he says, “I’ll remember that.”   
  


* * * * *   
  


The apartment is dark when he arrives home, and for a minute, he lets it be. He knows his way to the bedroom well enough, strips off his work clothes and throws them into the hamper without turning on the lights. It’s harder than that, though, to rid himself of the smell of work. He’ll have to take a shower.

Glancing up, he can see that in the building across the street, a couple is putting up Candlenights lights on their shabby little balcony.

Taako closes the blinds.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Kravitz calls him the very next day, which honestly makes Taako worry he’s going to be clingy. He’s always been more of a wait-three-days-to-call kinda guy himself. But they have a good call, surprisingly good, good enough that Taako has to refrain from smiling too much as he leaves the walk-in freezer he ducked into to take it during work hours so as not to give himself away. Kravitz asked him whether he’d like to meet for coffee in a couple days, and well. Taako has a date.

It’s on a workday. Taako likes to put first dates on workdays. It makes for a convenient excuse to duck out if things aren’t going well.

He ends up wishing he hadn’t taken the precaution at all.

Because it turns out talking to Kravitz is easier than breathing. He shows up to their date slightly windswept from the cold December air off the river, and looking positively  _ delectable _ in an entire three-piece suit and a peacoat that Taako would kill for, both for its presumed warmth and for the kind of silhouette it cuts. Even the way he moves, upon further observation in the fleeting afternoon light, is gorgeous. Better than the stuffy air and dim light of a ballroom. He orders a tea at the counter, slides into Taako’s booth along the back wall, and his easy apologies for being late – even though Taako suspects he’s perfectly cognizant that he arrived precisely on time – are a masterclass on what pleasantries are meant to be  _ for. _

Taako expects no more than an hour of those pleasantries, peppered with some personal information: where do you work, what do you do, do you have any hobbies, seen any good movies lately? He  _ doesn’t _ expect for Kravitz to be as good a  _ listener _ as he is. He doesn’t expect to find himself spilling his frustrations with catering and his ambition to be a world-class chef within the first thirty minutes, doesn’t expect Kravitz to sit through Taako bitching about the morons he has to deal with on a daily basis with genuine  _ interest _ and  _ sympathy _ . He doesn’t expect Kravitz to be  _ moral _ , or for the turn in his voice when he talks about his ambitions to do human rights law, one day, to do funny things to Taako’s stomach. He doesn’t expect to  _ care. _

And he especially doesn’t expect to say  _ yes _ when handsome, moral, good-listener Kravitz suggests a walk in a nearby park, despite the weather, citing restless energy and the wish to give up their table to new patrons. They spend another hour rambling down a sidewalk by the Potomac, talking, talking, talking, and Taako looking up at Kravitz’s unreal jawline and unfathomably long eyelashes and wondering whether Kravitz might put his arm around him if he were to say he was cold.

He has to tear himself away when it’s time to go to work, barely gets back in time to change quickly into his uniform and catch the bus.

That’s never happened to Taako before.  
  


* * * * *   
  


“You look happy,” Ren says to Taako as he’s putting on his coat after his shift. They’ve been working on prep all day, getting ready for the three weddings they’ll be doing this weekend. December is big for weddings. Taako, personally, thinks that holiday weddings are fucking absurd. Some cliche white people bullshit.

“What do you mean?” he grouses, tying his scarf on and zipping up his jacket.

“Hey,” Ren says, holding her hands up like a surrender. “No need to get defensive–”

“I’m  _ not  _ defensive,” Taako grumbles. He struggles with his zipper and doesn’t look Ren in the eyes. 

“It’s just…” she starts, and then sighs, “Taako, you usually walk out of here looking like you’re ready to strangle someone with your bare hands. Which is fine! I get it, it’s a day job, you don’t have to love it. It’s just… you don’t look like that today.” He glances up for a second at the tone in Ren’s voice only to see her eyes kind of sparkle, like she’s  _ invested _ in Taako’s emotional state or some bullshit. “Something good happen?”

Taako clenches his jaw tight.

“No,” he says, and he pushes his way out the door without another word.    
  


* * * * *   
  


Kravitz asked for a second date. Taako thought, by then, it would be his responsibility, given the standard rules of give-and-take in these things (as though he has any standard to go on), but when he’d told Kravitz as much the phone, Kravitz said that technically Taako made the first move by giving him his number, and also he didn’t let him pay for Taako’s coffee last time, and what would his Southern mother say to that, really.

“She’d be appalled, if I made you call  _ me _ after a coffee date. It’s only fair,” he’d said, his voice like melted butter, as Taako lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, entirely too exhausted to put up a fight against that much pure, concentrated charm, “that you let me treat you to a real dinner date. I have a reputation as a gentleman to uphold, Taako.”

“That’s some nineteenth-century chivalry bullshit,” he’d said, but he’d been a little enchanted by the sound of his name in Kravitz’s voice, and had already been imagining another hour or two of borrowed time listening and sinking into that sweet voice and the shocking sense of ease and apart-ness from the world that being with Kravitz, even for just a few hours on a Tuesday, had given him.

Taako could hardly be blamed for saying yes to that.

Second dates mean something, though. Every subsequent date means it’s harder to break it off when things go wrong or you get tired.

But  _ fuck it _ , Taako thinks, on the bus, on the way to dinner. It’s not like he’s going to  _ marry _ the guy. It’s a  _ second _ date. Entirely different than a third one. And Kravitz is buying  _ him _ dinner. If nothing else, Taako can always cite mercenary reasons for being tricked into seeing the same guy twice in what is, technically, less than a full week since they met.

Kravitz is already waiting for him when Taako arrives at the restaurant he picked out, a vision under the streetlights and the firelight from the outdoor heaters licks across his cheekbones and dark skin like a  _ dream _ . Taako has to remind himself to breathe like a normal person. Kravitz is in that nice peacoat again, and Taako would bet another fancy suit is underneath it. He smiles when he catches sight of Taako crossing the street.

“Jesus,” Taako says, when he’s close enough not to shout at him. “I didn’t know this event was going to be black-tie, my man. I feel underdressed.” It’s only half a joke. Taako “dressed up” for date night, but “dressing up” in this case isn’t much beyond a pair of decent jeans and a clean blouse and some sparkly earrings. He doesn’t quite  _ look _ like Kravitz’s date, decked out as Kravitz is, all suave and sophisticated.

Kravitz’s mouth tweaks a bit.

“Work went late,” he says, “I didn’t find myself with enough time to agonize over another outfit.”

“ _ Do _ you agonize?” Taako asks, letting Kravitz open the door for him.

“Not usually,” he replies smoothly, “but then I’m not usually meeting anyone whose opinion really matters to me.”

Kravitz has a reservation, which makes Taako mark down a few points in the _good boyfriend qualities_ column, before he _quickly puts a stop to that_ – it’s a second date for Christ’s sake – and they’re quickly led to their table. It’s a lovely restaurant, Taako thinks, a little high end without being too intimidating. And it’s a point in Kravitz’s favor that he went for sushi rather than some generic Italian or something. Taako eyes the plates already on the tables they pass and thinks that he even did an okay job. Another point in his favor. 

“You did good, handsome,” he says, as they sit down. “Nice place.” The hostess lays their menus in front of them and Taako doesn’t hesitate to crack his open.

Kravitz smiles at that, all benevolence and good humor and a more than hint of relief.

“Thank goodness,” he says. “I have to say, when I asked you for a dinner date I hadn’t thought through the fact that I would be choosing a restaurant at which to dine with a professional chef.”

It’s a bit  _ too _ flattering in regard to Taako’s career, currently, and he flushes just a touch. 

“Did you agonize over that, too?” he quips. He’s never this clever. He doesn’t know what’s come over him. Or rather, he does, but he doesn’t understand how that damn  _ smile _ on Kravitz’s face is able to make him feel like his body is constructed entirely of shimmering soap bubbles.

Kravitz looks back over his menu, charming, charming, so charming it shouldn’t be legal.

“Thoroughly,” he says, “I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m rather conspicuously trying to impress you.”

And Taako can tell he’s not lying. It’s just the right amount of honest to twist his insides up into a knot. No one’s paid such close attention to him in a long time. No one’s put in the  _ effort _ to impress him in… too long to remember. No one’s thought he was worth impressing.

There’s low jazz playing in the restaurant. The babble of voices washes over him, and the alcohol selection looks just as impressive as some of the food.

“Well I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Taako says, before he can stop himself, before he can tell himself to play the game. “You’re doing just fine.”

Kravitz  _ glows _ , and Taako so busy feeling  _ great _ about it he barely hears the voice in the back of his head whispering  _ this could be dangerous _ .   
  


* * * * *   
  


“Are you doing anything for the holidays?” Kravitz asks, reaching for another piece of sushi off the plates spread between them.

The question knocks him back and takes him horribly off-guard.

_ Of course not _ , he wants to say,  _ why would I? _

“Nah,” he says instead, light and breezy. “Nothing planned. I’m not really a holiday type.” Which he should  _ not  _ have said, as it’s only going to invite  _ more _ questions, rather than fewer, but Taako hasn’t been uncomfortable all night with Kravitz, and it’s amazing how quickly one can forget to keep their guard up, when nothing’s forcing them to.

“Really?” Kravitz asks, intrigued, and Taako’s heart stalls in his chest for a second, and his mouth goes dry.

_ Not much point in having a Holiday when you haven’t got anybody to share it with _ lies on the tip of his tongue, but No. No. He can’t say that. He can’t let that out. That’s not for – that’s not for Kravitz, not for  _ anyone _ to hear, and it doesn’t even really  _ matter  _ –

He waves a hand, takes a sip of water.

“Well, you know,” he says, “I’m usually at work on Candlenights anyway. Solid week of parties, sometimes multiple a day, so, ‘chaboy gets kinda busy. Not much point in putting up bushes when I’m never home to enjoy it.” And  _ there _ . That sounds like a perfectly normal excuse, and it’s not even that  _ untrue _ .

Kravitz hums.

“Very practical,” he says, and Taako can’t tell if it’s approval or concession. “Usually I just spend Candlenights with my mother. It’s quiet, but I think I prefer it that way. Not one for parties.” He kind of grimaces at that. “Maybe I shouldn’t admit to being something of a shut-in on a date,” he adds. It makes for a perfect out, and Taako’s grateful for it – and then he’s a bit surprised by the comment at all. Kravitz, a shut-in? Kravitz, assuming that telling Taako he’s a  _ little _ anti-social, maybe, is going to turn Taako off him? As though Taako does this with people all the time, lets them into his space and voluntarily spends time with them? As though  _ anything _ about Kravitz thus far has been anything other than exceptionally and almost suspiciously intoxicating and wonderful? Unfathomable. 

“Does this mean I should be flattered by seeing you twice in a week?” Taako asks, batting his eyelashes just to make Kravitz chuckle.

“I plead the fifth,” he says, but his eyes say  _ yes, you should _ , and Taako doesn’t know what to do with that.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Taako keeps his apartment meticulously, impersonally clean.

He didn’t used to.

But he does now. Now he’s a grown up, functional human being, who knows when to change his sheets and do laundry, who separates his clothes out by color and fabric type even though he has to drag his things down to the laundromat to do them. He preps meals, cooking large portions on days off and then storing them carefully in his fridge in identical tupperwares, the glass kind, that he got on a sale from Walmart as a treat, and he always has something to warm up when he’s too tired to cook anymore. He orders takeout on a strict schedule of no more than once every two weeks.

He does his dishes immediately after eating. He doesn’t leave anything in the sink. When something’s on the stove, Taako’s at the sink, picking up as he goes. There’s never a speck of dust or a stain on his counters.

He folds the couch blanket at night when he migrates to his bed, and drapes it carefully over the back.

His bathroom is cleaned once a week and deep cleaned every other. He’s never late.

Because he’s grown now, and grown out of childish things. Because he hasn’t the time to look for the bills when they come in the mail and look for his keys when he leaves the house, so they must be in their assigned place when he needs them. Because he’s a functioning human being, and he keeps the space around him maritally clean and organized because to look at the organization is to  _ see  _ the together-ness and keep proof. It is to fill his head with a calm-ness, a numb-ness, a security of where all the things are and why, and more importantly a self-consciousness of how put-together Taako is and how  _ well _ he’s doing. Physicalized external evidence of how successful he is, how  _ fine _ everything’s going, and he can go out into the world armored and protected by the fact that he is performing his existence to any high standard that anyone might wish, and that, in the end, is what matters.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Their third date is dancing. 

It took them a while to get there, because Taako got busy with the holidays encroaching, and then Kravitz got busy too, and then he was at his mom’s, and then it was New Years, and they hadn’t texted for a bit and Taako was wondering if he waited too long to follow up on another date and Kravitz had forgotten him, and then Kravitz had texted him asking about a New Year’s party, and Taako, as much as he wanted to see Kravitz, terribly, desperately, shamefully desperate in his desire, he couldn’t bring himself to face a party where people would  _ know _ Kravitz and then by association be meeting Taako and he’d have to stand there with this new man, this new  _ relationship, _ amidst all the jovial celebratory new beginnings bullshit all around him, and – 

He’d made an excuse of some kind, something about work that wouldn’t be too suspect, before he’d really had a chance to think through how the dismissal of the first date prospect after not talking for weeks would sound, and then through the alarm of thinking that maybe Kravitz would think Taako wanted not to see him again, texted him about a raincheck on the chance for a first dance, and Kravitz – 

In Kravitz fashion, he’d dug up a facebook notice for a swing-dancing night at a local community center, and sent it to Taako with a “so about that dance” text, and – 

Taako keeps being amazed by Kravitz’s ability to get him to do things he never thought he would. 

But he gets to see Kravitz dressed down – well, marginally, it’s really just a subtraction of the tie and jacket from his usual look, but still  _ so _ worth it. And after a quick dinner they get to the place, and for a door fee of a few dollars they get an hour of group lessons in swing, and Kravitz is  _ entirely  _ too good at picking dates, because Taako only realizes once they get there that he’s organized a situation where Taako gets to spend the entire evening  _ touching Kravitz.  _ Hand in his hand. Kravitz’s arm around him. Kravitz looks amazing with his sleeves rolled up. He’s a good dancer. Taako isn’t. Kravitz tells him it’s because he got really into music in high school and college, so all those years have given him a touch for rhythm. Taako’s hardly listening, because it turns out he hasn’t touched anybody he’s been attracted to in months, and he can hardly string two thoughts together in order.

God, he’s so fucking gay.

He likes it more than he thought he would. He likes the live band. He likes how when they start up a song occasionally Kravitz will hum along, and Taako wants to hear him sing. He likes watching Kravitz have a tiny little jealous streak when Taako gets asked to dance with other guys. He likes the way he laughs at Taako’s mistakes without a hint of malice, and how Taako can throw in moves completely off-style to throw Kravitz off and he’ll laugh harder and take it all in stride. He likes how it’s been weeks since they’ve seen each other, and falling back into Kravitz’s space and  _ clicking,  _ like no time passed at all, is so damn  _ easy _ . 

At the end of one song, Kravitz honest-to-god  _ dips _ him like some old-fashioned movie star, and with his face  _ right there _ and feeling a little hot under the collar from exercise and proximity, how can Taako do anything but grab his collar and kiss him?

There’s a few whistles from other couples around them, and Taako finds he doesn’t mind at all.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Spring comes, and Taako’s work gets even more wedding-heavy, which is good for revenue (they always over-charge for weddings) and bad for Taako’s mood. He works long, though not as long as Candlenights, and get sick of the same songs over and over, filtering into the kitchens from every single reception.

The trees turn, and the cherry blossoms start blooming along the river.

Taako keeps expecting Kravitz to try and sleep with him.

Date after date, Taako prepares for an invitation back to Kravitz’s apartment, or some token resistance when they have to part, or an offer to drive him home and a carefully placed hand on his thigh on the way. But though Kravitz looks genuinely remorseful every time they have to break away from each other at the end of their allotted time together, here a dinner, there a picnic, the time Kravitz took him to the symphony… no invitations ever come. Every date goes exactly as promised, and nothing more is insinuated at the end of them.

Maybe he’s ace, Taako thinks to himself, one day on his second smoke-break. Maybe it’s just not his style. Which is fine, it’s… it’s kind of great, to think that Kravitz keeps seeing him because of his personality, because the dates are time well spent, because they’re fun and light and carefree and bubbly, just like Taako feels them, and maybe there doesn’t have to be anything more. No ulterior motive.

Kravitz  _ is _ hot though.

And he seems inclined to extend their dates, when he can. When Kravitz can order them dessert, or take Taako to a shop with ice cream or fudge, or can take his hand and walk with him along the river, now a go-to code for “please let’s not go home yet,” and they can snatch another hour of talking and talking, and make Taako surprised and delighted all over again that they haven’t yet run out of things to say.

He thinks, for a minute, about making the move himself, about asking Kravitz over to his for a nightcap, maybe going out of his way to buy some fancy alcohol that someone like Kravitz, sophisticated and handsome and always looking a little like he’s walked out of an old-timey movie, would drink. About sitting with him for a minute or two, sipping on a cocktail and then maybe asking him if he wants to–

But every time Taako imagines it something catches in his brain. Like he can’t reconcile the image of Kravitz and the image of his aparment, with his mostly bare walls and threadbare linens and the way that if anything is out of place Taako can’t  _ think _ , and it just feels… wrong. Like Kravitz doesn’t belong there. Like Taako is someone different with Kravitz, someone bright and beautiful and accomplished who can match him in public and private alike, someone who hangs on Kravitz’s arm and belongs there in the eyes of the passerby, and that Taako isn’t the same as the Taako who uses his shower. Like he’s an entirely different creature in the presence of this one particular man, and bringing him back to a place that reeks so heavily of the  _ other _ Taako will shatter the illusion once and for all. Like it would be trying to layer two images, one over the other, like looking through a pair of poor 3D glasses that don’t quite work, and trying to reconcile them would only give them both a headache.

No, he thinks, every time his brain circles back around to the image of Kravitz in his home. No, he’d better not make that move. Things are going just fine as they are.    
  


* * * * *   
  


It’s May, and Taako’s standing in front of his closet, deliberating between shirts – Kravitz has now  _ seen _ him in anything good enough for a date, but he wants to look  _ nice _ anyway, because Taako  _ finally _ allowed Kravitz to drag him to a jazz club downtown and Taako’s going to at least put in  _ some _ effort – when the phone rings.

He sighs, drops the shirts in defeat, and pads over to the bed to get it, praying it’s not work because he hates having the “no I’m actually not coming in when I have time off” conversation, and–

It’s Kravitz.

Taako sits down on his bed, clothing dilemma forgotten as he answers.

“Well well well,” he teases, “just couldn’t wait an hour for some Taako time, huh handsome?”

Kravitz laughs, over the line, and Taako’s stomach drops out. 

Something is wrong. That isn’t how Kravitz laughs at all. Something is wrong. Something is  _ very wrong _ .

“Hi, Taako,” Kravitz says, and he sounds like he’s been hit by a  _ bus _ and been screaming all day and like at any moment he might crumble apart into a hundred pieces and – and Taako doesn’t like being able to hear all that over the line, and half of him wants to throw the phone across the room out of terror and–

He’s standing. He doesn’t remember getting up. 

“Hey,” he says, not teasing anymore, not getting  _ close _ , “Hey, are you okay?”

Kravitz laughs again, that awful,  _ terrible,  _ bitter laugh, as though that’s a  _ funny _ question, and Taako kind of feels like he wants to cry. 

“No, not remotely,” he says, and then, while Taako’s gaping at the honesty of it, at the insinuation that something is wrong enough with Kravitz that he could sound like  _ this _ –

“I’m so sorry, Taako,” he continues, like every word is being pulled out from between his ribs with a fishhook and taking so much of the rest of him with it – “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to – to reschedule our date.”

Air raid sirens blare in Taako’s head, like from the movies. Ambulance sirens, high and fast, alarms on alarms on alarms, layered and screaming and all telling Taako to  _ run _ , to  _ get out because he’s leaving you – he’s at the end of the line and he’s tired of you and he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore, and you have to get out  _ **_now_ ** _ , because you let yourself have one good thing and look where  _ **_that_ ** _ led you– _

_ No, _ he thinks desperately, back at that voice,  _ no, listen to how upset he sounds to be cancelling, and – and think about all the other dates, he wasn’t  _ **_faking–_ **

“Taako?” Kravitz asks, “are you still there?” still sounding wrecked and  _ ruined _ and Taako  _ hates it _ –

“Yeah,” Taako says, pacing around his room, “Yeah I’m still – did something happen?” It bursts out of him, before he can cut himself off, “are you – are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Kravitz says quickly, too quickly, quick enough that it only serves to quicken Taako’s heartbeat and doesn’t make him feel better at  _ all _ – “don’t worry, Taako, I just – I’m sorry that I had to cancel, I really am–”

“Don’t,” Taako interrupts him, “it’s fine, don’t–” his head is spinning with what to do next, because it feels  _ wrong _ to get off the phone with Kravitz like this – Kravitz is so bright and beautiful and smart and funny and suave and Taako’s never once heard him sound like just one touch could crumple him like a fucking sticky note. It’s all wrong, it’s so wrong it shocks Taako’s system and suddenly, all self-preservation goes out the window, and Taako gets down to  _ work _ .

“Do you – do you want to be alone right now?” he asks, maybe a touch too desperate, too honest, too  _ needy _ , and he thinks that with how  _ good _ Kravitz is, if Taako pushes him he’ll cave, and that’s the last thing he wants – “it’s fine if you do,” he adds, just to make sure he doesn’t think that Taako’s  _ demanding _ to be let in – “It’s okay, I just–” just just just just – _ just what Taako? _

“I could come by your place,” is what he comes up with. “If you’re not up for – for going out, and I could bring by some food, if you don’t want to cook or something, I know a good takeout place, I could – I could bring you something. If you wanted. If you maybe wanted company instead of… not company.” He sounds insane. He sounds completely knocked off-kilter and like he’s never said three coherent words together in his life, and Kravitz is going to  _ think _ he’s insane, and Taako’s going to ruin everything by pushing too hard and showing too much how much he  _ wants _ when he’s with Kravitz, but. 

But Somehow this feels like the thing to do. Somehow it feels vital that Kravitz doesn’t go home alone and sit there all night, after calling Taako an hour before they were supposed to meet at their date to cancel.

Because Kravitz is such a traditional soul, such a  _ gentleman _ , such a romantic (it’s disgusting) that he would  _ never _ cancel this close to a date. Not if he had a cold. Not if he was just tired and wanted to stay home, or if his car broke down. If a meteor was to hit the earth tomorrow and society had descended into complete and utter chaos, Kravitz would arrive at their set location, right on time, probably with a bouquet of flowers he picked up from a corner grocery store along the way.

Kravitz hasn’t answered for a long time, but the phone static is still on. It’s a loaded silence, one that Taako doesn’t want to interrupt, for fear of tipping it in the wrong direction.

He waits, and paces, and runs his hand through his hair and  _ tugs _ , and waits.

“I haven’t cleaned my place,” Kravitz finally says, but there’s a hesitancy there, something of a deliberation.

“Kravitz right now I’ve got six separate pairs of pants on my floor,” he says. And granted, they’re because Taako was throwing things all about the room in a tizzy trying to come up with what to wear for their (now cancelled) date, and he’s going to be putting them back up immediately, because if he leaves them there he’ll lose his  _ mind, _ but Kravitz doesn’t need to know that. “I promise you I’ve seen worse.” And that is significantly more truthful.

Another long silence.

“I don’t even have to stay if you don’t want me to,” Taako says. “But at least let me bring you some food.”

“You can stay,” Kravitz says, quickly again. “I – I wanted to see you, today.” It’s the closest thing to any kind of emotional admission that’s passed between them since their very first date, and Taako’s breath hitches. “I’m not going to be much fun tonight, but. If you wanted to… come over, I would have you.”

_ I would have you _ . Taako’s insides feel like jelly. He’s not sure if it’s in the good way or the bad way.

He goes for his dresser, clamps the phone between his head and his shoulder as he immediately goes to pull out a pair of leggings.

“Hey, my man,” he says, his voice coming out weirdly softer than he expected. “This wouldn’t be the first couch date ‘chaboy’s ever had.” Are comfy clothes presumptuous? Maybe. He pauses in his digging, but – no, maybe he can convince Kravitz to dress down too. Lord knows it sounds like the boy needs it.

“I’ll take care of everything, okay?” he says. Something in him tells him he  _ has  _ to get this right. “I’m going to go out and grab some food, and then if you – huh, I’ve never been to your place –” no wonder Kravitz is worried about it being clean. He’s always trying to make a good impression. Too bad Taako’s too worried about him to care “– if you text me the address I’ll be there in maybe 45 minutes to an hour? Is that okay?”

“That sounds good,” Kravitz says. “Thank you, Taako.”

“Don’t thank me,” Taako says, instead of saying  _ hold on tight, I’ll be there soon.  _ “See you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Kravitz says, and the phone clicks off.

Taako scrambles to find himself an appropriately oversized sweatshirt and the phone topples from his shoulder onto the floor with a clatter that shakes the earth.

“Shit!”   
  


* * * * *   
  


It takes almost 50 panic-inducing minutes for Taako to get out of the house and to Auntie’s for the food and then to another bus so he can get to Kravitz’s, and in that time he has ample opportunities to think over every single thing that might have happened to him to make him sound like that on the phone, and – 

And the scariest thing is that Taako  _ should _ be worried about what this is going to do to them, he  _ should _ be regretting his offer to come over, because maybe things are about to become awkward and weird and will stay that way forever and maybe Taako’s overstepped and they’ll never have the easy manner together that he’s practically been living on these past few months and Taako will have ruined everything. 

He should be thinking about that, and only that, and in a way he’s kind of got it in mind, but – 

But more than all of that, much more at the forefront of his brain, inexplicably, is wondering whether Kravitz is going to be okay. If Taako’s doing enough, if he’s getting there in time, if Kravitz even wants him there and if Taako’s doing the right thing at all – because Taako  _ wants Kravitz to be okay. _

He tries not to dwell in that feeling. He thinks that maybe if he does, is he recognizes the foreign-ness of putting his own comfort and security on the line for Kravitz like this, if he thinks too long about the fact that it was  _ his _ decision to walk into Kravitz’s life in this whole new way, he’ll get off the bus and walk all the way home in the bucketing rain outside, and he  _ can’t _ do that, because Kravitz needs  _ something _ , and Taako thinks he might be the only one here to give it to him, right now. 

He’s glad for his umbrella, when he gets off the bus. The rain keeps coming down harder, like the whole world knows that Kravitz is in trouble, and providing the appropriate weather for such an event. His shoes get wet as he walks the three blocks to Krav’s building. His sweatshirt is speckled with errant drops by the time he gets there.

Kravitz’s building has a doorman, and for a minute Taako’s worried that he’s going to be in trouble from it, but the guy lets him in with little more than a name. Kravitz must’ve said he was coming.

In the nail-biting moments waiting for the elevator, Taako thinks about turning and running.

He thinks about running when the doors close behind him, and as he selects the button for Kravitz’s floor. 

He thinks about it as he walks down the hall on shaky legs, reading the numbers on the doors, and finally coming to Kravitz’s: unassuming, undecorated – 

Taako’s mouth is dry. 

He knocks. 

He waits.

And then the door opens.

And Kravitz is there.

And he looks  _ terrible _ .

Taako’s never seen him like this, not once. And materially, it’s not that different, but perhaps that makes it even scarier, because Taako can read the miniscule differences in his posture – he’s leaning, just a little, on the door, like he needs it to prop him up. And he’s still wearing his work clothes, like he hasn’t bothered to take them off – Taako’s wondered, before, if Kravitz would go home in the evenings and just sit around in a suit. It seemed strangely in character, and sort of funny. It doesn’t seem funny now.

Kravitz looks at Taako like he’s not really seeing him, and then his eyes focus a little, and his brow furrows, and –

“Oh,” he says. He sounds so tired. “Is it raining?”

And Taako looks down, at the umbrella in his hand, at the general dampness of his clothes, and says,

“Yeah. Yeah it’s uh… it’s coming down pretty hard out there.”

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz says immediately, worrying his bottom lip, his face scrunched up and sad in a way that pains Taako so, so much, right to his core, “I didn’t mean to make you come out in all of that.” Taako’s shaking his head before he can decide not to.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. And then, just because they haven’t said it, “hi.”

“Hi,” Kravitz says. He smiles. It’s just as warm as always, and infinitely sadder.

Taako swallows, lifts up the takeout bag. 

“I come bearing food,” he says.

Kravitz seems to kind of snap back to reality with that, and steps back from the door. 

“Right,” he says, “thank you for – here, you can come in, I’m. I’m sorry about the mess.”

“It’s okay,” Taako says, immediately. He follows Kravitz inside, lets him close the door behind him. Taako wants ro reach out to him, wants to touch him. Wants to put his arms around him and kiss him. He doesn’t. He doesn’t know what’s okay here, in this moment. The takeout’s still dangling from his arm as Kravitz locks his door and turns around. 

“Um,” he says, his eyes scanning around the room over Taako’s shoulder, “make yourself at home?”

God, he’s so lovely, Taako thinks. He’s trying so hard. He wants nothing more than to defuse the situation, take that tension out of Kravitz’s shoulders. 

“Me? What about you, my man?” Taako says. He can’t help himself. He reaches out and runs a hand over Kravitz’s lapel. “You’re the one who’s all dressed up.”

“Yes, I… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to–” Kravitz starts, and Taako squeezes his arm.

“Hey. Stop apologizing, okay?” he says. He tries to project as much _ I’m happy to see you and want you to relax  _ energy as possible. 

“I just thought, you know. I’m looking forward to some premium couch time,” he says. “And unless your whole suit situation is the height of comfort for you, you don’t have to be afraid to… you know. If you wanted to change, it’s gonna take a minute for me to warm up the food. Is all I’m saying.” He runs a hand down Kravitz’s arm, laces his fingers with his. “Why don’t you go put on a pair of sweatpants, or something? Always makes me feel marginally more human after a bad day.” 

Kravitz looks down at Taako, now crowded up in his space. His hand in Taako’s is cold. 

“Okay,” he says. “Are you sure you don’t want help with anything?” 

Taako has to keep from releasing an exasperated sigh. At times, there’s a thing as  _ too _ chivalrous.

“I’m a chef, baby,” he says, “this is what I do. Go get comfy. Take a minute, it’s okay.” He wants to lean up and kiss him. He doesn’t. It doesn’t quite feel like the right moment, and he goes for squeezing his hand instead, good and tight and secure. “I’ll be out here when you’re done.”

Kravitz nods. There’s something in his expression that Taako can’t read, but that threatens to turn his legs to jello. A tightness, maybe. And something in his eyes. 

“Okay,” he says again. “Okay, I’ll, um.” He looks so lost, Taako can’t  _ stand _ it. “I’ll be back out in a minute.” And then he hesitates, before one hand comes up to the back of Taako’s neck, and he’s being pulled in for Kravitz to kiss his forehead. His cheeks immediately go hot, and then Kravitz is gone, across the room, and has disappeared into the little door that Taako imagines must lead to his bedroom.

Taako swallows, wills his heart to slow, and finally takes a look around.

Kravitz’s apartment is both like he expected, and not.

In terms of nice-ness, it’s right up there where Taako thought he’d be what with his fancy lawyering. Not ostentatious – Kravitz isn’t the type, and Taako’s always got the sense that his impeccable dress is more for work clout than anything else – but far and away nicer than what Taako can afford on his current salary. Kravitz has a  _ dishwasher _ that looks like it’s less than a decade old. He’s got his own laundry closet, right over there. A big TV and a couch that looks like it probably came from a store new, not secondhand. All of this Taakitz expected.

What he didn’t expect is the clutter. Little knick-knacks and things spread across every surface, with seemingly little rhyme or reason –  _ a lot _ of books, stacked on his counter and his coffee table and on the end tables by the couch and, he can see, even stashed in the cabinets of his TV stand. His briefcase, abandoned on the coffee table too, and looking forlorn. At his little breakfast bar – and Jesus, he has enough counter space to have a  _ bar _ , is paperwork, mounds of it, looking organized but chaotic, in various states of finished or not.

Taako notices he doesn’t have a little dish or a hook where he keeps his keys. His nice peacoat is just draped over the armrest of the couch, even though there’s a small coatrack by the door. Kravitz’s apartment bears all the markings of someone who  _ wants _ to be put-together in their home life, and isn’t.

It’s so intimate that Taako almost wants to look away, except he can’t, because the signs of Kravitz’s life – Kravitz’s living, from moment to moment, when Taako’s not around – are everywhere around him. Immersive and terrifying and personal.

He doesn’t move the paperwork as he sets about warming up the food. There’s enough free counter space to manage. He considers plating it, but thinks better of it. He’s not sure what Kravitz will want, and they can share, can spoon things right out of the containers onto their plates if they want to. This is casual. This is a casual night.

He similarly doesn’t set the table. He’d prefer the couch, but it feels presumptuous. He’ll wait ‘til Krav comes back, and take the lead from him.

He does see some stray dishes around the room, though, and before he thinks better of it he’s picked them up, rinsed them off, and is putting them in the dishwasher, and that’s when he hears the footsteps behind him.

“Are you  _ cleaning?” _ comes Kravitz’s voice, and Taako startles like he’s been caught shoplifting. He turns around and holds his hands up, ready to defend himself.

_ Oh. _

Taako thought he knew how hot Kravitz was.

He’s thought that seeing him dressed up and put together and polished all the time would have given him a realistic sense of Kravitz’s hotness – the shoulders and the jawline and his gorgeous long hair and – and  _ everything _ . But Taako should have expected that dressed down would be even better. That in sweatpants and a soft-looking black t-shirt he’d be beautiful enough to make Taako’s mouth go dry and knock all the words right out of his brain, because oh  _ god _ . Oh no. Taako should never have come over. This is an absolute mistake. Taako’s going to die.

He must’ve been quiet for too long, because Kravitz looks distinctly uncomfortable, and maybe a little  _ mad _ , which makes Taako’s blood nearly run cold.

“You don’t have to clean for me, Taako,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t… tidy before you came over–”

“No!” Taako cuts in, quick, because the last thing he wants right now is for Kravitz to think – “I wasn’t trying to be a  _ dick,  _ I just… I thought I could… you looked kinda tired, and maybe, you know. I mean,” it’s impossible for him to talk. He doesn’t know how. Something about telling Kravitz the simplest thing makes his heart rate skyrocket and his knees want to crumple out from under him. He’s going to  _ die. _ Kravitz is the hottest and nicest and  _ best _ boyfriend he’s ever had and Taako’s  _ fucking it up _ – 

“You sounded… upset,” he tries. “On the phone.” This is the worst. Taako’s going to dive out the nearest window he can find at the nearest possible convenience. “And I came over because,”  _ I was worried about you  _ is far too much, too soon. “I wanted to –”  _ make you feel better _ ,  _ help you, do  _ **_something_ ** _ for you, you absolute angel –  _ “I just thought, you know, sometimes chores are –” he can’t say  _ impossible to do, take the most energy in the world, insurmountable, and I get it, and I don’t want you to feel that way _ . “Things are tough, you know?”

Taako’s the  _ worst _ boyfriend in the  _ world _ .

Kravitz looks at him for a long moment, and the silence in his messy, lovely, Kravitz-y apartment is crushing, and Taako can’t breathe.

Then his shoulders loosen, and his throat tightens, just a little.

“Thank you,” he says, but in a way that makes Taako feel like there’s a million more things behind it, like Kravitz isn’t thanking him for the dishes, and he’s only leaving the pretense there for Taako’s sake.

“Sure,” Taako says. “Of course.” Like in any timeline, in any lifetime before he met Kravitz, it would be normal for him to take care of someone. Like any version of him would do a boyfriend’s dishes because he seemed a bit sad, and that would be a given. It’s not. But that doesn’t seem to matter here. Because Kravitz needed it, and Taako did it. 

There’s too much space between them. Taako’s dying to bridge the gap, to put his arms around him, to do  _ something _ .

“So,” he says, as though he’s not self-consciously in the most emotionally charged moment he’s experienced in  _ years _ , “where do you wanna eat? Table? Couch? Couch plus put a movie on or something? I got some damn good comfort food here and some damn good comfort TV recs to go with it if that’s your bag.”

“Couch is fine,” Kravitz says, and then, almost as if remembering something, he looks behind him, at the couch, with its coat hanging over it and a blanket bunched up and his coffee table covered in papers and books and briefcase. 

“I’ll uh,” he says, “I’ll just make some room.” And he busies himself with picking up. “The food smells good,” he says, hanging up his coat. 

“ _ Hell _ yeah it does,” Taako says, relieved that the moment is breaking a little. Relieved that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , he can see some of that terrible emptiness leeching out of Kravitz’s eyes as they talk. “This is from the first place I worked in this city, you know? I didn’t have anywhere to go and Auntie took a chance on me and taught me everything I know about cooking,”  _ why is he saying this _ , “well, not everything. I mean I did go to two and a half years of culinary school, but honestly she can cook rings around them anyway.” He’s blabbering. Kravitz is picking up books off the floor, and really just moving them to the kitchen table, and for a moment Taako thinks it’s almost  _ domestic _ and  _ then _ he tells the other half of his brain to run over that thought with a  _ truck _ before it has a chance to go  _ anywhere else _ – 

“She sent you soup,” he says. He holds up the extra containers Auntie gave him when he picked up the food. The bag she handed him was significantly heavier than he knew it should be, and Taako had protested until she gave him that  _ look _ , and he’d  _ had _ to take it. He tipped a little extra. “For leftovers, you know?”  _ Make sure to slip it into his fridge _ , she’d said, and when Taako’d said he hadn’t told her where he was going, she’d just come back with  _ you forget, dear. All my children are married.  _

Taako’s not going to be telling Kravitz  _ that _ , either.

“I tried to tell her not to send extra food with me,” he says. “Not because I don’t wanna feed you, or anything, because like I always say–”

“The quickest way to a man’s heart and all that” Kravitz recites, almost by rote. Taako’s not looking at him, but he thinks he can hear a half a smile in his voice. 

“Exactly,” Taako says, “and as you know, I’m pretty invested in–”  _ getting into your heart _ , he almost says without thinking. He stops what he’s doing. The room is silent. Kravitz must know what he meant, he thinks. He has to. There’s no other excuse for the way things have gone quiet and weird. 

This is so dangerous. Taako never should have come. One bad phone call and one stupid decision to come over to Kravitz’s place and suddenly Taako’s taking  _ care _ of people and almost  _ confessing _ to them that he cares about them? In  _ words? _

It’s a slippery slope, he thinks. It was so dangerous to come here, like this. To allow himself to brush up against this kind of intimacy and know what it means, even for a minute.

He doesn’t turn around to look at Kravitz. 

“Anyway,” he says, quietly, “she always gives me extra, when I order. I try not to let her, because she never lets me pay for it, but it’s. Um. It’s good food, you’ll like it.”

He  _ finally  _ turns around, to terrified by Kravitz’s silence  _ not  _ to look at him anymore, and – and the living room area of the place is a bit less messy, and Kravitz is leaning against one of the kitchen chairs, looking at Taako with  _ such  _ a soft expression that it kind of takes his breath away. The exhaustion Taako saw at his front door, the little sadness, that darkness isn’t gone, but he’s… maybe for the first time tonight he’s  _ looking _ , like all of him is there. And Taako can’t tell exactly what that is in his face, but it makes his heart kind of beat out of his chest, almost in a desire to just be  _ closer _ to him, somehow. 

“She sounds… formidable,” he says. Taako almost wants to get defensive, but he can’t. Because Kravitz isn’t being rude, he’s being  _ real _ . “You’ll have to tell her thank-you for me, the next time you see her.” 

“For sure,” Taako says faintly. The way Kravitz is looking at him is scrambling his brains into a hundred directions, and he keeps thinking he’ll get  _ used _ to how beautiful Kravitz is, but he never, never does. It keeps hitting him, over and over, and always in a different way.

“Hi.”

Kravitz’s mouth tweaks into a smile. “Hi,” he says back. And then, “Come here.” 

Taako goes.

“What, did you need some–” and he’s cut off by a kiss. Kravitz is kissing him. And oh. Kravitz is  _ really _ kissing him, hand sliding up to cradle Taako’s head, other arm settling low on his back, and he’s pulling Taako close, and  _ wow _ . Wow. Okay. Taako is fully dazed when he pulls back.

“Thank you for coming over,” he says. “I’m so happy to see you.” Taako’s still in his arms, like he could swoop back in any minute, and Taako kind of wishes he would.

“Yeah,” he says, “anytime.” And he means it.

  
* * * * *   
  


It’s late.

Taako knows, factually, that it is late.

He knows from Kravitz’s actual clock he has hanging on the wall, which looks like it might be a hand-me-down, that it’s now creeping past eleven, and he should be getting home.

He knows from the fact that Netflix is rolling over into the fourth episode of the Great British Bake Off all on its own, and Taako knows how time passes when it’s playing in the background. He shouldn’t stay for another. It’s late.

He knows from the way his head is pillowed on Kravitz’s shoulder, on the way Kravitz’s arm is resting gently around him, after Taako scooched over on the couch when they finished eating and there was a couple glasses of wine in him, not even properly tipsy, but  _ absolutely _ drunk off the lingering smell of Kravitz’s bodywash and the energy and warmth he could practically feel coming off him in waves, and Kravitz accepted him into his space so easily, like it was gravity, like Taako belonged, and he fit securely into that space, under Kravitz’s arm and across the broad planes of his chest and onto his shoulder, and they’d had another glass of wine, and Taako loved how soft Kravitz’s tshirt felt against his cheek, and leaned on him a little more, just to see what he was allowed –

It’s getting late. Right. Right. That’s what he’d been thinking. It’s late and Taako should go home.

“Hmm?” he hears, more resonating through him from the contact with Kravitz than hearing, and it occurs to him that maybe he said some of that out loud.

“It’s late,” he says. He doesn’t say any more.

“It is,” Kravitz answers. He makes no move to separate from Taako at all.

“I should be getting home,” Taako more whispers than properly  _ says _ .

Kravitz doesn’t say anything to that. Taako’s hyper-aware of his breathing, of his chest rising and falling steady and comfortable and  _ comforting– _

Taako should be getting home. Taako should be getting up, and finding his coat and keys, and heading out the door. He thinks Kravitz’s heart might be beating a little faster than it was a moment ago, and distantly, on some other plane, he wonders why.

“It’s late,” Kravitz says. And then, “you shouldn’t take the bus in the middle of the night.”

“I’m a big boy, Kravitz,” he says. “I’ll be okay.” Although he thinks over the route a little in his head, and he thinks about how it took him fifty minutes to get to  _ Kravitz _ while all the lines were running, and he tries to think over the night schedule, and calculate how much of that time was spent at Auntie’s getting the food –

“You don’t have to,” Kravitz says. And Taako turns his head and  _ looks  _ up at him, surprised, and Kravitz is very pointedly  _ not  _ looking at Taako. And Taako can never read blushes on him, but he’s pressed so close he can monitor the beating of Kravitz’s heart, and he thinks that oh. Kravitz is nervous.

“You could say here,” Kravitz says. “If you wanted to.”

Taako just keeps looking at him, thinking that oh, is he–

“Not to… you know,” he says, and  _ oh no, Taako’s made it weird _ , “but I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay the night. Here.”

“Yeah,” Taako says, to put him out of his misery, and because he  _ wants _ to, wants more than anything to not leave Kravitz here alone, and to stay close to him as long as possible, and – 

“Yeah,” he says. “If you don’t mind, I’d – I think I’d like that.”

Kravitz’s arm tightens just ever so slightly, where it’s looped around Taako’s shoulders.   
  


* * * * *   
  


“Sometimes,” Kravitz whispers, when they’re lying together in the dark of his bedroom. “Sometimes it’s all just too much, and I don’t think I can bear it anymore.”

Taako breathes in, and breathes out.

“I get it,” he says. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry that it all just… happened today,” Kravitz says, and Taako wants to hold his face between his hands and tell him to  _ stop _ , stop being sorry, never be sorry again, “I don’t… I didn’t want you to see that part of me. I know it’s… a lot.” 

_ How can you say that? _ Taako thinks.  _ Don’t you know how I’ve spent the last three years? _

“It’s okay,” he says. He can’t think of anything else to fill the space that won’t ruin them. “It’s really okay.” _How could I hate you for this?_ he thinks. _How could I begrudge you this, ever?_ _You’re wonderful, and I would rather feed you takeout a thousand times, and spend a thousand nights on the couch with you in dead silence and pressed close to your skin, than have you smile at me and have it not be real_.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, because it’s as close as he can with real, actual human words.

His hand finds Kravitz’s hand in the dark, and Taako laces their fingers together, and holds onto him, and doesn’t let go, even as his eyes grow heavy and he drifts closer and closer to sleep.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Taako doesn’t realize until later that week that talking about  _ Auntie _ was what made Kravitz’s face so soft. 

He doesn’t realize that to someone like Kravitz, who hasn’t known him forever, that’s probably the closest Taako’s ever gotten to talking about something like  _ family _ .   
  


* * * * *   
  


They stop going out for dates.

Well, not  _ entirely _ . But they stop going out  _ as much _ , because now that they’ve experienced the closeness and the casualness and the calm of Kravitz’s massive, luxurious couch, the appeal of a sweatpants date, well. It seems that neither of them are terribly inclined to get all dressed up and go out into public when there’s so many more ways they can be  _ close _ in private. 

The contact becomes almost addictive, but scrap the almost. Taako comes over to Krav’s every weekend, if he can swing it. Sometimes he comes over when he has work in the morning, and brings a change of clothes, and lets Kravitz kiss him goodbye in the morning. There starts to be a toothbrush in Kravitz’s bathroom Taako uses when he’s there. 

Sometimes they order in, and sometimes Taako drags Kravitz into the kitchen and makes him put on an apron and everything and teaches Kravitz how to cook something. He secretly thinks Kravitz pays more attention to Taako than to the food, and he can’t say one way or another that Kravitz is learning anything, but he  _ does _ kiss Taako’s neck a lot, and he likes draping himself over Taako’s back when he’s standing at the stove, and  _ thoroughly  _ distracting him in a multitude of ways until Taako has to swoop in and save their meal from near disaster.

They watch their way through three seasons of Bake Off.

But they’re not always paying attention to that, either.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Sometimes Taako would go to lie down for the night, and if the exhaustion from his day job didn’t hit him right away, something dark would climb in the back of his mind, and creep and creep until it was no longer just confined to the back, but was in the  _ front  _ and  _ everywhere _ , his entire head full of a crushing, pressing, deadly feeling, and Taako would bite down on his own fist, blind from the crushing, and feel his throat go tight with that feeling and his chest and it was like someone was doing open-heart surgery on him, with how much it hurt, and Taako wasn’t given the right anesthesia and had to stay awake through it.

Sometimes. 

Many times. 

But it was something confined to the darkness and the quiet, and Taako would breathe through those hours and clench his jaw until his teeth ached, and pull his knees to his chest, and wait through it until his body couldn’t take it anymore and he passed out, or until the cool light of dawn came peeking through his window, and the necessity of function drove the demons away until the next moment of possible rest. 

He used to cry. 

He doesn’t anymore.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Kravitz doesn’t like Taako’s smoking.

Taako knows this. But he’s  _ very _ kind about it, hasn’t breached asking Taako to quit, and really, Taako’s not in  _ so _ deep that he can’t ignore the itch for a while they’re on a date or something, or when he’s staying the night over at Krav’s place.

But he knows Kravitz doesn’t like it.

He started chewing gum before meeting him for anything, when they began dating, just to get the smell of it out of his mouth as much as he could. Kravitz, for all his poor eating habits, is a healthy guy. Probably hasn’t ever touched a cigarette in his life. Bit of a mama’s boy, too. She probably never let him anywhere near them.

It makes Taako feel a bit gross, lighting one up on a picnic, even when they’re outside and he’s far enough from Kravitz that maybe it isn’t completely offensive. He doesn’t miss the way Kravitz looks at him when he spies a pack in Taako’s pocket, when Taako knows he can smell the smoke on his clothes.

The worst part of it is he doesn’t even look disgusted, just… scared, almost. Worried. A bit sad, maybe, and that part cuts Taako to his core.

Kravitz is too good to say anything, to kind, to respectful of Taako’s autonomy to destroy himself in whatever way he sees fit, and ever conscious of pushing too hard, of making Taako feel like Kravitz is trying to monopolize him, mold him into something more to his liking. He’d whispered that to Taako one night, in the dark, when Taako was staying over. That he never wanted to be the kind of person that required so much of their partner that they didn’t feel like themselves. Taako barely responded, murmured generic platitudes for fear of letting any more of his heart escape in front of that man, but –

But the next morning he got up before Kravitz did, and took a morning smoke on the sidewalk outside his building, and imagined Kravitz’s soft, elegant voice telling him  _ those things will kill you _ , the way he used to tell –

He grinds the cigarette out under his heel, and carefully thinks around the space where the logical next thought would be  _ why should I be worried about dying _ , and goes back inside to wake Kravitz with the sounds and smells of breakfast, and kiss him good morning, and experience something,  _ anything _ good.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Taako’s halfway out the door on the way to a date when it hits him like a sack of bricks. 

He forgot. 

He  _ forgot _ .

Taako doesn’t give anything a second thought. He can’t stop the dark feeling from creeping into the back of his mind and then the front and then colonizing  _ all of it _ , and then before Taako knows what’s happening, he’s in his bed and the lights are out and he doesn’t know how he got there. 

He  _ forgot _ .

_ Lup. _

It hurts even to think her name. In a way, Taako’s always thinking it, but it doesn’t even rise to the front of his brain. He doesn’t let it. This is the  _ one day a year _ Taako thinks about her, and he  _ forgot to remember the date _ .

How long has it been now? Three years? Four? Taako thinks he can only remember the day, not the year. The day they stopped looking. The day Taako’s life fell apart in front of him and he nearly fell with it. Taako feels like he’s back out on the street, terrified of nightfall. Taako’s alone in the alleyways and he knows no one and nothing and everything he’s ever believed or loved or cared for or wanted is ashes in his mouth and he can’t breathe around the fact that he –

He  _ forgot  _ what day it was. He  _ forgot _ . Kravitz asked him for a date, and Taako said yes, because he was off work, and because it was Saturday, and he was thinking of it as Saturday, not – not – 

He didn’t _think_. He was _stupid and he didn’t think_ _and he_ ** _forgot –_**

Taako lies there and shivers and finally,  _ finally _ allows himself to cry for once, because this is the one day a year when he gets to break down. Because he  _ forgot about Lup _ . Because this is the one day a year that he doesn’t hold the demons back and inside and behind the walls and they come spilling out through eyes and mouth and everywhere, and Taako allows the torrent of emotion to take him, and he allows himself to think about her, and he  _ forgot  _ because he had scheduled  _ something else to do.  _ And he lies on his side in his bed and weeps and mourns the emptiness, the loneliness, the  _ everything _ , and holds onto life with white-knuckled hands and tells himself he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, can’t be, can’t cease to be, can’t breathe, can’t stop. He’s  _ alone _ and  _ empty  _ and  _ Taako _ , but he isn’t the Taako he knows himself to be, and he can’t make himself a life and he can’t allow himself to lie here and decay and tomorrow he’ll have to get up and move, and the world will move, and Taako will still be  _ empty _ , because Lup will still be  _ gone _ , and what else beyond that could ever matter at all?

When he comes to, night is falling outside. It’s been getting like that, lately, the days growing short with the retreat of the year. Taako doesn’t move an inch. Through his window he can see a patch of darkening sky. 

He’s under the covers in his clothes. He’s sweat through them, and can feel his hair plastered to his neck, sticky and gross, and he doesn’t move. Lup is gone. Taako forgot the date. He doesn’t move.

He can hear his phone buzz from across the room. He doesn’t reach out to get it. His mind has quieted now. Everything lays out in a clear, straightforward line before him, long-worn logic taking over where he’s been hollowed out by the loss of–

He doesn’t get up to get it. He can’t seem to move.

The phone buzzes, and buzzes again, and once more, and Taako doesn’t answer.

Taako doesn’t answer the phone, because he can’t bring himself to move. He doesn’t answer, because he shouldn’t. 

He lays there, and lets the phone ring until it stops ringing, and then he lays there longer, until the faint evening light outside his window drains out of the sky, and then he lays there in the dark, letting his lungs fill with sand, and prays that he’ll go to sleep and never wake up, that maybe for once, things will be mercifully over, quick and painless, like he wants. 

He’s drifting that way, half-aware when suddenly he’s  _ jerked _ awake by the sound of  _ knocking _ . Knocking, on his front door. 

No one ever comes to see Taako. Unless –

“Taako?” he hears, from so far away, through the living room, through the bedroom door, in Kravitz’s beautiful, beloved voice. “Taako, I – I don’t know if you’re there, but I’m worried about you. Please, if you’re home, will you open the door?”

Taako can feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again. He feels like he’s being pressed between two massive stones, like he couldn’t move if he wanted to.

“Taako?” Again. And Kravitz sounds scared, and Taako should hurt from it, but it makes the chill set into his bones deeper. Like it can’t compute. Like the fear in his voice can’t reach the place that makes Taako hurt for him. Taako’s circuits have been cut. It would be terrifying, if Taako could still feel fear. If he felt anything but vaguely ill. 

“Taako, please.” 

Why doesn’t he assume Taako isn’t home?

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he calls, and Taako listens, a captive audience, and because he’s hung on Kravitz’s every word from the moment he first met him, “but I’ve been calling, and – and Taako, if something’s wrong, please let me in. Please?”

Taako won’t. Every cell in his body wants to go, but he won’t. He lays like the dead, and maybe he is. Maybe if he lays here long enough his body will give up, same as his mind, and when someone finally thinks to break down the door and check where he went when he goes too long without turning in rent or when he doesn’t show up to work, they’ll look around at his neat apartment and think it was an accident, and call it a shame. 

Kravitz keeps talking for a bit, but there’s a buzzing in Taako’s head so he doesn’t register the words.

And eventually, mercifully, there’s no voice anymore.    
  


* * * * *   
  


The problem is, when Taako scrapes himself out of bed the next day, there are things to attend to. 

The day on the calendar has changed, and with it the fog has left his mind, somewhat, and he can feel all his fingers and toes, and has enough of a grip on reality once more to know that he has to keep moving. He doesn’t, truly, want to lie still until he can’t be distinguished from a corpse – or perhaps he does, but he knows he can’t. There are things to be done, and besides. Taako doesn’t have the conviction. That was always a quality of – 

It was a quality of Lup’s, not his.

But in the wake of yesterday, two thoughts stand out clearly in his mind.

The first: Taako can’t go on living the way he has. 

Grief is a funny thing.

As with all emotions, all processes bound up inextricably with that unseen, unknowable force we call  _ love,  _ more often than not it defies all expectation or understanding, despite our best efforts. There is no emotion that allows a human mind to conceptualize the terrifying and unfathomable power of the disappearance of a soul – the phenomenon that one day, a person we love could  _ be _ here, and the next, they could not, and never will be here again – it is unfathomable. 

To say that Taako grieved his sister would not be a mistruth. Lup’s disappearance colored his every moment of every day. Not in thought – no, Taako’s grief manifested in a conscious un-thought, a lack of attention, a refusal to dwell upon memory, loneliness, or the hole in his heart that he could never accept – but in reformation.

That day that Taako realized Lup was gone, not just in thought, not just in word, but in soul, realized, deep, all the way to his bones, that there  _ was _ no more Lup, and  _ could be  _ no more Lup, that  _ Lup _ as he knew her no longer existed, save as a memory in his own head. Well. It changed him. Taako was always one of a pair. Taako’s moral center was Lup. Taako had only ever allowed himself to care for one person with his entire heart and soul.

When Lup was gone, the entirety of Taako, as he knew himself, as he had identified himself, as he positioned himself in contrast and in context of the world… all of it left with her.

And from then, he built himself a new life upon the back of a new Taako. And this Taako had no sister and never did.

And Taako knows now, in the sharp gray light of yesterday’s brimming over of feelings he hadn’t touched with a ten foot pole for far too long, that he cannot go on living that way. Because he will always be two of himself, one with all the knowledge and care and personality of an entire life, and one who sprung, fully formed, into the world four years ago, and can’t be reconciled with the first. 

Which brings him to the second point.

He has to end things with Kravitz. 

Some things that come to you in a panic are just panic talking. Others have founding. And Taako thinks that of all the dark things that lurk in his mind, this one has the founding it needs to take root. 

Taako’s relationship with Kravitz has been born of that second Taako, the one he puts on when he walks through the door each morning. Because a Taako who knows what he’s lost, who acknowledges the depth of despair that is inextricable from Lup’s absence, could never flirt with anyone again. Could never go dancing and be kissed in a warm room. Could never mirror domesticity the way Taako did when he came to Kravitz’s apartment and – 

And Taako can’t allow it to stand.

Himself is steeped in tragedy. Kravitz makes him feel like he isn’t. And that feeling can’t be allowed to take root and grow until the way that Kravitz makes feel replaces the rest of him, and Taako isn’t himself anymore. 

And more, he knows the way things are headed with Kravitz.

He remembers Kravitz calling him, over six months ago now, to cancel their date that night that Taako fell in love with him. He’d picked up then, and when Kravitz had needed him, he’d come when he was called.

He hadn’t thought through the consequences. He hadn’t thought how it would bring him closer and closer, from then on, until that other Taako who was new and happy and living a life almost like that of someone who hadn’t had their soul hollowed out of their body was taking up almost all his hours, and Taako forgot who he really was. Who he would always be. He hadn’t thought through the fact that if he let it go on things would just get more and more serious , and Kravitz would want to know him more and more, until even he will see, someday, the way that the Taako he knows is layered atop a Taako that’s barely real anymore, like slapdash wallpaper. And it’ll hinder him. It’ll pull him down. Like Taako’s a weight chained to his ankle. And he’ll have been wasting his time building a relationship with half a person. With a ghost.

Therefore, he  _ cannot _ be with Kravitz anymore. These thoughts follow one another like a logical proof. Like there’s no other option. Like they are irrefutable.

But there are things to attend to. Text messages and voicemails and missed calls that Taako only has the energy to skim, in the wake of his fallout. He placates Kravitz with a simple excuse, a promise to meet him later  (and explain) . He gets dressed for work and eats a bowl of oatmeal and texts back and forth with him in cordial, unaffected tones until he’s got them a meeting set up for this weekend. 

He shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t go. He shouldn’t be wasting any more time, when he should never have let the relationship get this far.

But every time Taako’s tempted to end it right there, and be done, and get back to his grief, he thinks about Kravitz bringing him a drink at his fancy conference party, or Kravitz asking him to dance, or sleeping over at Kravitz’s apartment and waking up, not alone, and feeling like tomorrow might be better than today, and Taako can’t bring himself to end it through a text. Kravitz is worth so much. He’s worth more, certainly, than that.

He sets up the date. Saturday at noon. Kravitz will be there, like clockwork, and then Taako will do what has to be done.

He stares at the little heart by Kravitz’s name for a long time.

He deletes it.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Taako asked him to the coffee shop where they had their first date.

It’s like righting a wrong. It’s like time travel. It’s almost a year since they did this for the first time. Taako’s a week off, but the weather is the same. Windy, chilly, and the booth they took the first time isn’t open, so Taako slides into another. It’s so much like that first time, and perhaps that’s why he likes it. Like if he cuts it off here, he can pretend it never happened. A first date gone wrong. He can forget all the information of Kravitz’s arms around him and the smell of his cologne and bodywash when Taako gets close, and the softness of his lips – 

He gets there early on purpose, to make sure he’s got the high ground when Kravitz arrives. 

And he arrives just the same way he did then. The bell over the door rings, and the cold wind bursts into the shop, and in walks the most beautiful man Taako’s ever seen, except now as Kravitz’s eyes scan the room it’s not with the same burgeoning hope and curiosity as back then. Now, when they land on Taako, the smile is more dear, more familiar. Intimate in a way that feels like poison in his mouth. Kravitz holds up a finger, and mouths “wait for me,” and orders the same tea as he did then, and Taako’s heart seizes in his chest as he watches his every move.

Maybe because he can’t tear his eyes away. 

Maybe because they’re acting of their own accord, taking in every ounce and inch and breath of Kravitz for now, while they can, because they know what they’ll be losing, and they’ve never wanted to lose sight of him once, not since they first became acquainted with him. Taako’s always wanted more of Kravitz. That was exactly the problem.

Kravitz lays his hand on the table between them when he slides into their booth, as though asking for it to be held. Taako’s stay securely around his coffee mug. 

“Taako,” Kravitz says, his voice caressing his name with undeniable relief. Taako could throw up. “I was worried about you. You didn’t return my calls.” He studies Taako’s face, and Taako employs all of his training that he’s gathered from years of being dead in his own skin to look impassive, to pass scrutiny.” 

It doesn’t work. 

“Are you alright, love?” Kravitz asks, voice so soft. “Did something happen?”

And Taako’s teetering, then, on the edge of a knife. In the next moments, he’s going to topple over, and all of this, all of the threads between them, all of the trust  and love will break. It’ll be better, once it’s over. It is what has to be done. Taako does not question that.

He studies Kravitz’s eyes in bullet-time. He looks for any hint of apprehension, any indication that Kravitz knows, at all, what’s coming. 

And it isn’t there. 

Because Kravitz doesn’t know. Taako doesn’t see anything but earnestness, openness, care, concern… trust. Taako thinks about Kravitz trusting him. Taako thinks about how good he was, asking him out in the beginning, and how good he was, holding Taako in the dead of night, and how good he was, not minding when Taako was busy at weird times, or when it took them a while to sleep together, or Taako’s smoking, or – 

Taako breathes, ready to slip his hand into Kravitz’s and tell him  _ it’s okay, gorgeous, don’t worry about me _ – 

“We need to stop seeing each other.”

Kravitz recoils like he’s been struck. 

“What?” he says. His voice has gone completely hollow. And then he shakes his head, and the movement is almost comical, or would be, if all of Taako’s organs weren’t unzipping themselves and turning themselves inside out. 

“Taako,  _ what?” _ Like he doesn’t understand. But Kravitz is sharp. There’s no way he didn’t hear. He knows what Taako said. And Taako’s glad it’s made him speechless. It’ll make the whole thing go quicker. Better for both of them, that way.

“We need to stop seeing each other,” he repeats, resolute.

Kravitz looks a horrible mixture of bewildered and  _ hurt _ , there’s nothing else to call it, it’s  _ pain _ , it’s  _ anguish _ , and Taako hasn’t even said more than a  _ sentence _ yet, and he claws for breath and thinks that he would rather pull out all his fingernails one by one than live through this single conversation, and he wants to take it back, he’s going to take it back, he’s going to say sorry, he will, and he’ll take Kravitz’s hand and kiss it, and cry, and tell him everything, and maybe then everything will be okay –

“I heard you,” Kravitz says, and the moment tips back into reality. There’s no color in his voice. Taako wishes he was dead. “I just – Taako  _ why?” _

Taako’s  _ not _ going to cry. Taako is  _ not _ going to cry. No matter how bereft Kravitz sounds. No matter how wide his eyes are or how much hurt is painted all over his face. He laughs humorlessly. It allows him to sob without sobbing, to steel himself to make everything worse.

“Does there have to be a why?” He says. He should’ve written a script. His hands are so tight around his coffee mug that he’s worried, distantly, that if he squeezes any tighter it’ll break.

Kravitz looks deeply affronted. Taako pretends he can’t read expressions.

“We’ve been dating for almost a  _ year _ ,” he says. His voice is getting louder. People will look over, soon. “You sleep over at my place almost once a  _ fucking _ week, and until now you haven’t said a  _ thing _ about this, so yes, I think there needs to be a  _ why _ .” 

Oh good, Taako thinks, distantly. He’s angry. Angry is good. Taako can work with angry.

He waits for himself to get angry too. To lash back. To get heated. To fight with Kravitz, now that there’s a fight to be had.

But he can’t. He can’t muster a thing. He feels lightheaded. He feels numb.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine.” And he reaches for words to explain – 

And then he can’t think of a  _ single _ “why” to give him. Nothing that he feels is anything he can tell. Kravitz doesn’t know – Kravitz doesn’t know any of it. Taako’s never said. Taako never planned to tell him about – but now Kravitz wants a  _ why _ , and there isn’t one in the world that gives Taako the plausible deniability he needs. 

“I don’t want to,” he says. His voice sounds far away. “I don’t want to keep dating.” 

“ _ That’s not an answer _ ,” Kravitz says, and Taako can’t tell if it’s fury or desperation in his voice, but it’s like a jumper cable’s shock to the heart, and Taako’s back in the coffee shop again, and Kravitz is there, and Taako needs to end this as  _ soon _ as possible.

“ _ Yes it is,”  _ he says. He draws himself up as tall as he can in his seat. He takes a deep breath. Every part of him is shaking. 

“Look,” he says, “what do you want from me, Kravitz? An essay? This isn’t a fucking business agreement, I didn’t sign a contract to be a part of this, okay?” He draws power from deep in his core. Makes his words as barbed as he can, as hurtful, just to shut things down sooner. To rip the bandaid off. “We’re only in a relationship if we both say we are,” he says. Calm, cool, collected. Stating a fact. “That’s how it works. And I’m saying we’re not anymore.”

Never let it be said that Taako doesn’t know how to be cruel when he wants to be. 

“You don’t really get a say in whether or not this is over,” he says. He forces himself to look into Kravitz’s eyes as he does. Forces himself to watch as they well up with unshed tears. It’s like taking his organs out while he’s conscious and setting fire to them one by one. Kravitz looks like he’s been slapped. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Taako understands. He can’t believe he could say it to him.

“I don’t understand,” Kravitz said. “What happened?” He reaches out, across the table, his hand face-up. Even now, he’s more than Taako deserves. Even now, he’s trying to fix this. 

“Did I do something?” he says, and Taako’s breath goes out of him again. “If I did something wrong, I –”

“You haven’t done anything,” Taako says. He keeps clutching his cup, like it’s the only thing keeping him on the ground. He can’t bring himself to lie to Kravitz about this. He can’t place the blame on him, through this. None of this was ever Kravitz’s fault. “It’s not about you,” he says, which is wrong, because it is, because it’s about Taako, and the fact that Taako managed, somehow, to fall in love with him, and that can’t be allowed. 

“Don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be,” Taako says. He can hardly hear his voice through the rushing in his ears. “I’m ending it, Kravitz. It was good –” the words slip about before he can stop them, too true, too little. Taako chokes. He  _ isn’t  _ going to cry. “– and I’m ending it.” He breathes through his nose, presses his lips together, clenches his jaw.

“It doesn’t have to be anything more than that. I’m sorry,” because he has to give an apology now. The conversation’s gone too long. Taako can feel his resolve slipping with every subsequent second. He’s going to crack. He’s going to break. He’s going to show too much, and he needs to get out – “but that’s the only explanation I can give you.”

Kravitz’s face is just shock. There are tears in his eyes, and he isn’t looking at Taako anymore. He’s just staring at the table between them, like he’s not even there. Taako did it, he thinks. There’s no way Kravitz is going to come after him like this. He’ll never reach out to Taako again, and Taako will never bother him again, and all will go back to the way it should be. Everyone will go back to the place where he belongs. 

“I have work this afternoon,” Taako says. Because he does. Just like that first day. “I–” he starts, and he finds he has nothing else to say. Kravitz doesn’t acknowledge him. And Taako gathers up his things, and slides out of the booth, leaving his untouched coffee behind. 

He means to go. He means to walk out. He needs to walk out, before he can make anything worse. 

But Kravitz is just  _ sitting there _ , unresponsive, and Taako thinks about the few times he’s seen Kravitz like that, like the world couldn’t touch him, and about the dishes scattered around Kravitz’s house when he hasn’t had to strength to pick them up, and about that phone call, the one that sent Taako’s blood racing and had him acting in a character he’d never seen in himself before.

He turns back to the table.

“Are you…” Taako can’t help himself. He lays one hand down on the wood, gentle. “Are you going to be able to get home okay?”

Kravitz jolts, like he’s been shocked. And then he swipes, furiously, at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

_ “Fuck you _ ,” he says, half a sob, but with enough heat in it that Taako draws his hand back, and knows it’s time for him to go. 

“Fair enough,” he says. And then, “goodbye Kravitz.” And he leaves the shop.

He lights up a cigarette the moment his shoes hit the sidewalk. He takes a long drag, and sets off for home.

The wind blows the smoke away when he breathes out. It cuts through his coat, never enough for the weather, and makes him sharply, vividly aware of the fact that he’s alive. 

At least, he thinks, he got to say goodbye this time. At least the leaving happened on his own terms, and he knows where Kravitz is, and will be, and he won’t have to wonder. There are people to catch Kravitz. His mom. Taako’s sure he’s got a coworker or two that will notice if he takes time off work. Yes, he thinks, Kravitz will be alright. He will have been jilted, but he’ll carry on, and Taako will get to know that he is somewhere, alive, even if he’s not with Taako.

It’s better than it could be, he thinks, and he smokes, and he walks, and he doesn’t once turn around.  
  


* * * * *  
  


Things return to a kind of status quo.

Taako works, and when he doesn’t work, he makes life. Makes himself food and makes himself eat it. Keeps himself and his apartment clean. The Candlenights season comes rushing in at work and Taako pays it no mind. He’s grateful for the way the extra work makes his brain go numb, gives him things to do with his hands and new frustrations and things to scoff at, so he doesn’t think about – 

It’s hard, because Taako said he was going to change. 

But re-learning how to think his way around the space where he used to  _ not _ think about Lup is hard. Harder than it has any right to be.

And it seems for the first time in years, Taako’s emotions are suddenly firing on all cylinders. 

She comes up constantly. When he’s doing prep at work, and will think about the way they used to weave and joke around each other in their kitchen, and suddenly he can feel the tightness behind his eyes and has to duck into the walk-in to stop himself crying before anyone can see. He sees himself in store windows and the windows of the bus, reflected back just dimly and poorly enough that it always makes him see just that much of Lup’s face too, and Taako has to hold back tears there, too, on the street, and when he fails the cold air stings his face in their tracks.

Kravitz comes up, too, of course. Taako thinks about him on smoke breaks at work, when he automatically thumbs over to their text conversation before remembering that he broke it off, that there’s no reason to text Kravitz anymore, and Kravitz wouldn't want to hear from him, anyway, after what Taako’s done.

And of course, one day he’s looking for a particular t-shirt in his dresser, before he remembers that he left it at Kravitz’s place, for weekend dates, and he never went back there again.

And one night, he gets home from a long day and he thinks that maybe he’ll head over to Auntie’s for some comfort food, and walks halfway there in the freezing night before he remembers the way she looked at him when he picked up food for Kravitz, and how she might ask about him, because he’s gone since and ordered for two, because Kravitz loved her food as much as Taako did, and Taako will have to explain– 

He turns around and walks back home and orders in instead.

He tells himself he made the right decision, that it was better to break Kravitz’s heart now, consciously, and have control over how much he hurt and for how long, rather than unconsciously break it later when Kravitz realized exactly what Taako is.

But the thing is. 

Taako misses him.

And the longer he spends coming home to his meticulously clean apartment, alone, and knowing that he’ll be alone, that no one’s coming for him, 

The harder it is to believe himself.

Sometimes Taako wakes up in his bed, and reaches out for Kravitz before he’s fully awake, only to find that he’s not there.

Ren starts to give him funny looks after about a week. Long, studious looks with a hint of concern in the crinkle of her brow, but Taako doesn’t pay them any mind. He knows he’s miserable. But somehow, to acknowledge it externally is too much. More than he can handle.

He spends most of his time at home idly flipping through his phone – not social media, all his social media is dead, and not his texts, because he doesn’t have anyone to talk to, and Kravitz’s name still sits at the top of his recent texts – and staring at the wall, thinking about nothing.

Taako forgot how empty his life used to be. He always used to think he was managing just fine, that whatever happened, Taako was  _ handling _ things, and it was enough, and now – 

It isn’t.

But what is there to be done?

Taako works, and when he doesn’t work he breaks down crying the shower or while cooking or while pulling his laundry from the dryer at the laundromat, loss compounding upon loss, mingling and mixing up and pouring out of him as though he can’t hold it all, physically, in his body. Somehow it never occurred to him that leaving Kravitz, having fallen so thoroughly in love with him would make everything worse. Worse, maybe, even than back then when he first learned Lup was gone. He thought that his grief for the two of them wouldn’t hurt anymore than it had. He didn’t think there was any room in him for more.

But there is.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Taako doesn’t have to work on New Year’s Eve.

It’s a fluke in every way. Normally, they’d be booked up tight, long past midnight. But there’s a hitch in the scheduling, and there’s a certain funny event where they don’t need the chefs past ten o’clock, and by eleven, Taako’s settled on his little couch, watching the Times Square extravaganza with tinny sound on his shitty phone and debating whether or not he should just go to bed and cry himself through the exhaustion and into another year, and then do that again, and again, and again, for every year for the rest of his life, however long it turned out to be.

Not for the first time in his life, in the year, even today, he wonders what the point is, of dragging himself through the motions of existence, of continuing to put in the effort of being alive and present, if there’s no indication that he’s going to feel better than he does today. If, even when he gets the chance, he cuts it off and ruins it before it can go any further, a malicious self-loathing and self-harm that he hasn’t ever learned how to cut out and leave behind.

And Taako’s tired. He’s so, so tired. He’s tired of being alone, and lonely, and miserable. He’s tired of living in a skin that doesn’t feel his own, that feels like it will always half belong to someone Taako depended on and who left him without a word.

He’s tired of holding himself together at the seams. He’s tired of the schedules and the planning and the way that everything has to be just so, or he’ll crumble into pieces, and how even now that he’s putting in the effort, even doing everything right, he’s crumbling anyway. 

Taako’s throat hurts where it’s seizing up. His eyes burn with tears. The clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, and Taako can hear, faintly, from the floor above him, music and voices and the sound of many feet.

He closes his eyes, sick to his stomach, and he wonders where Kravitz is tonight. He wonders if he’s found somewhere to drink the New Year in, or if he’s at a party, and if he is, whether he found someone to bring with him. He wonders if Kravitz will be kissing anybody when the clock turns over and what he’s wearing. He wonders if maybe he’s just gone to bed already, and is sleeping, there, across the city, where Taako used to sleep too, laid out on his chest and clinging to the sounds of his heartbeat with his own heart, his own soul, and everything he had, and wished never to leave him.

He’s crying. The images on his phone screen blur, as he feels hot tears track down his cheeks.

He wonders if Kravitz is alright, if he’s moved on, if Taako hurt him too much to heal from, if he’s safe, if he’s out there somewhere taking care of himself and eating when he should eat and if his fridge is as bare as it was those first few weeks before Taako started bringing food by his place and cooking with him on weekends. He wonders if his holiday was good, and restful, the way it should be, if he enjoyed seeing his mother, and if he’s working too hard. It’s Friday night. He hopes Kravitz had today off, even though it makes no sense for him to. He hopes wherever he is, his chest feels lighter than Taako’s. He hopes that he’s warm and safe and that after Taako carved his heart out with a dull spoon and left him bleeding, someone came to his rescue.

Taako scrubs at his eyes, furiously, with his sleeve, and a sob bursts from his lungs, again, because he can never stop himself crying, these days– 

And then there’s a noise that rocks through his little apartment and makes him jump halfway out of his skin, his heart pounding in his chest, and leaving him gasping for breath, because – 

He thinks he heard a knock on his door.

Taako freezes where he sits. Just goes completely still, as he’s torn between despair and utter  _ bewilderment _ , because it can’t be, no one would come to – his heart is pounding, and his blood is rushing and he doesn’t even feel all the way in his body, because no one would – 

Another knock. Taako flinches at the sound of it. Maybe it’s someone looking for the party, come to the wrong apartment. They’re probably drunk. He’ll probably have to send them away himself, and he wraps his couch blanket securely around his shoulders like a cape, and scrubs quickly at his eyes and trudges over the door, not caring if he probably looks like shit, so long as it’ll make whoever’s out there go away sooner, and let Taako get back to his wallowing in self-pity and guilt and – 

He wrenches the door open, rebuttal ready on his lips– 

It dies there.

Along with any conscious thought.

He can’t make sense of what he’s seeing.

He looks just as he always did, like a dream. Like a nightmare. Kravitz.  _ Kravitz _ . Standing outside Taako’s door on the little concrete walkway, with snow falling behind him, illuminated by the streetlights, and he’s  _ there,  _ in his fancy coat, and snow clings to his lapels and on his hair, and Taako wonders, distantly, impartially, like he’s not a part of this moment at all, if Kravitz had a hard time finding a cab tonight, and if he walked part of the way here, and–

“What are you doing here?” Taako asks, because nothing else feels real, and he can’t get anything else to come out of his mouth.

Kravitz swallows, the way he does when he’s bracing himself to say something hard. The same flex in the line of his neck that Taako observed, careful and fascinated and terrified, the night he rushed over to Kravitz’s place when he said on the phone that he couldn’t make himself go out. When Kravitz met him at the door and let him into his home and looked scared, for the first time, with Taako, and confessed to him that sometimes being alive was too heavy a burden to shoulder and all he wanted to do was disappear, and something in Taako split open wide and was left there, in that moment, forever, and the rest of him has been spilling out through the crack ever since.

He’s beautiful. Taako can’t stop looking at him. He always looks beautiful, no matter what. A year ago Taako would’ve said he was objectively handsome. Now he doesn’t think he can. Nothing about the way he thinks around the space Kravitz occupies, in the world, in his head – none of it is objective anymore.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, and the sound of his name  _ snaps _ Taako back to the present, like turning the lights on abruptly in the night, taking the moment from half-real, dreamlike, to entirely present, and the cold cuts deeper, and the night sounds louder, and Taako can see Kravitz’s breaths in the air, and Kravitz is standing on his doorstep looking like an angel, and also like the end of him, and there’s nothing Taako wants more than to maybe throw his arms around him and invite him in, and maybe be fine with being taken to the grave as long as it’s Kravitz doing the taking.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, like he’s trying to catch his breath, “Taako, I –”

“What are you  _ doing here?” _ Taako interrupts him, because the sound of his voice is cutting a shape right back into Taako’s heart, scratching at the edges of the Kravitz-shaped hole that Taako put there himself, and didn’t realize he wasn’t ready to endure.

“I had to see you,” Kravitz says, as though that’s an answer. “I’m sorry–” he should never have to apologize, Taako thinks, for anything “–I know this is a – a huge imposition, and I know it’s probably – it’s not really a  _ good _ thing, to come… barging in on an ex’s space without warning –” and oh, even that hurts, like driving a stake through Taako’s heart, the acknowledgement from Kravitz that it’s over between them – it hurts so much more coming from his lips – 

“But Taako,” Kravitz says. His eyes are huge, and shining like he’s holding back tears, and Taako is too, because everything about him, his voice and his manner of speech and the way that he’s being so kind and respectful, even now, when Taako doesn’t deserve an ounce of the courtesy, all of it has Taako two second away from throwing himself right back into Kravitz’s arms, and begging him to forget everything Taako said, and start over, please, and Taako will do anything for him – 

“It’s the new year tomorrow,” Kravitz says, and the words sound almost rehearsed, like he’s following a script, “and I came here to tell you that I’m in love with you–” Taako mind goes entirely blank “–and I miss you, so much. And I don’t know what went wrong but if there’s any chance that we can work on – on whatever it was, I want to, because I –” he’s going off script, Taako thinks. His composure is slipping and all of the raw emotion that makes up  _ Kravitz _ is coming through and and Taako’s so weak to it, and Kravitz  _ loves _ him, and Taako can’t understand how, and he doesn’t know what to do, because this is everything he’s ever wanted and never deserved, and–

Taako can’t take it anymore. All the space between them. He feels like Kravitz is a mile away, and he doesn’t want him to be, and Taako doesn’t want him to hurt anymore, and it’s his  _ fault _ that Kravitz is hurting anyway, but here, somehow, like a miracle, he’s got a chance to fix it.

He reaches out and takes Kravitz’s hand. Kravitz shocks a little at the contact, and then he grips back, and his grip is strong, and secure, and his hand is freezing, and Taako loves him. 

He takes that hand in both of his, and even that is enough to start him crying, like he does all the fucking time now, and it doesn’t escape him the way Kravitz’s breath hitches, because Taako knows Kravitz has never seen him cry before. Taako presses that hand against his lips, and his cheek, and he weeps, and– 

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s like a weight coming off his chest, finally, at last. Taako’s missed him so much. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “For everything, I –”  _ love you _ , and even now he can’t say it, and he can’t understand why, because he does, he has to, nothing else would make him care about someone like this –

“I didn’t mean it,” he says instead, “I didn’t mean any of those things I said, I–” he sobs. “I didn’t want to do it.”

Kraitz’s hand comes up and pushes a lock of Taako’s hair away from his face, and his touch is so soft, and Taako breaks apart even more, because he can’t understand – he shouldn’t deserve Kravitz treating him like this, and he said such horrible things, and Kravitz came back anyway, and  _ loves _ him, and yet how can he, when all Taako’s ever been for him is a front, and Kravitz doesn’t even  _ know _ about what tears Taako to bits every day and leaves him crying at work and at home and everywhere, and why he has no friends and lives in a shitty apartment and never finished school and – and – 

Taako wants him so  _ badly _ , and even now, he doesn’t know what to do. Because he doesn’t know how he can let Kravitz go again, after this, after he’s been so wonderful,  _ again _ , but neither does he know how to keep him, when Taako’s already proven himself so incapable– 

Kravitz is running his hand through Taako’s hair. The air is so heavy between them, and Kravitz breathes in, deep, and Taako relishes the sound of it, and–

“I don’t know what’s hurting you,” Kravitz says, so quietly. It sounds like love, and Taako’s drowning in it, “and I know that I can’t just come in and fix it, Taako, I know that.” He leans close, and cradles Taako’s cheek in his hand, tilts his head up so he’s looking at Kravitz, and Taako’s melting, he’s sinking into Kravitz like quicksand and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever make it out again. 

“But if you ever thought,” Kravitz says, and he looks so honest, and true, and Taako sobs, again, a tiny, pitiful thing, “that when I decided to love you, I did it not knowing that you’re hurting, then you’re wrong, Taako.”

_ When I decided to love you _ . And it’s that, that acknowledgement of Kravitz  _ choosing _ Taako, of Kravitz wanting Taako, even though he could tell that something was gnawing away at the inside of him, that cracks Taako open and takes all the walls down.

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Kravitz,” the words come from someone, somewhere, far far away and outside, “there’s nothing inside me. There’s nothing there for you to be in love with,” Taako’s crying, “and I don’t want you to be in a relationship with a ghost.”

Kravitz takes both hands in his. He’s so steady. So good. Taako pushes on. 

“I don’t know how to make it better,” Taako says. “I don’t – I want to be with you,” he says, because it’s true, and all he has left now is truth, spilling out of him, almost without his own will. “I do, but I don’t know how to be the person that I want for you to be able to be with,” he tries to breathe, deep. He’s done so much not talking to Kravitz about things that he should have. So much hiding. He doesn’t want to hide anymore. He’s freezing, from the freezing air pouring into his home. They’re still standing in his doorway, still clinging to each other on the edge of this moment, and Taako still can’t tell which way it’s going to tip. But – 

“I’m sorry,” Taako says again. He looks right into Kravitz’s beautiful, deep eyes, and he tries to come up with something true, that will keep Kravitz here, and something true that will tell him what he’s getting into. And something true that will show Kravitz how badly Taako wants him, even if he doesn’t know how to stay with him, if he doesn’t know how he’ll ever deserve everything that Kravitz is. 

“You want to be with me?” Kravitz asks. And leave it to him to fixate on  _ that _ , of all things. On the way toward Taako. Taako doesn’t deserve him. But he nods, trying to breathe through the tears that continue to fall.

“Does it have to be more complicated than that?” Kravitz says, and Taako isn’t sure whether he laughs or he sobs.

“It _can’t_ be that easy,” he says, finally falling forward and pressing his face into Krav’s shoulder, and letting Kravitz put one arm around his waist and hold him. It’s unreal. It’s unbelievable. Taako thought he’d never get to do this again. “You’re supposed to be mad at me. I made you _cry_. And I don’t know how to be in a relationship, and I’m probably going to fuck everything up again, and I can’t _believe_ that you’re just _fine_ _with that_.”

“Well,” Kravitz says, smile in his voice, “I’m sorry to say it, Taako, but. You don’t really get a say in whether or not I’m in love with you.” Taako’s words turned back against him, this time imbued with love, and Taako laughs into Kravitz’s shoulder from relief, from the weight taken off him, from how close they are and how dear Kravitz is and he loves him  _ so much _ – he laughs, because laughing is more joyful than smiling, and Taako’s so full of joy he could burst. 

“You’re such a sap,” he says. “This better not be because you didn’t have somebody to kiss at midnight.” Because Taako doesn’t know how to tell Kravitz he loves him, but they’ve always been so easy together, and this is the best way Taako knows to let him back in.

Kravitz laughs too. It resonates right into Taako’s body, pressed up against him.

“Taako,” he whispers, beloved, lovely, perfect, “it’s past midnight already.” 

“Shit,” Taako says. His heart is beating so fast. “Then I guess I’ll just have to do it.”

“Mm,” Kravitz says. He sounds as happy as Taako feels. “Well I’d hate to be one to go against tradition.”

  
* * * * *

  
“My sister is dead,” he whispers in the night, the dark, curled up against the strong shape of Kravitz in his bed. He breathes around the tightness in his chest, and presses himself against Kravitz’s strong warmth, and says it like it’s nothing, like it’s simple. “I never got a chance to say goodbye.”

Kravitz goes still and quiet, and then his arms around Taako hold tighter. Taako can  _ feel _ the moment the words sink in, physically. He breathes into the silence, and as he has for years, holds the panic at bay.

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz answers, above his head. A horrified whisper. “I’m so sorry, Taako.”

Taako laughs, wetly, against Kravitz’s chest. He might be crying. 

“A lot of people always said that,” he says. “It never really helped.”

“I know,” Kravitz says back. “But I’m sorry anyway.” And Taako knows he is. Truly. And he reaches out for Kravitz’s hand and laces their fingers together. And holds on tight. 

“Ask me about her,” he whispers, “tomorrow. Ask me about her, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Are you sure?” Kravitz says. He sounds like he’s afraid Taako will break.

“Yes.” Taako answers. He won’t. Not this time. “Ask me in the morning. Don’t let me forget.” 

“Okay.” Kravitz says. “I’ll ask.”

“Thank you,” Taako says. He hopes Kravitz can tell he means it for more than just this.   
  


* * * * *   
  


Taako gets up the next morning. He can’t sleep.

When he gets up, it’s bright outside. It snowed more in the night than it seems almost everyone expected, and though it’ll probably melt over the next few days into nothing more than a memory, there are fewer sounds of cars passing on the street, and the light that filters into his small, dingy bedroom is brighter than usual, enough so that when he opened his eyes he knew that there’d be a white blanket over the world, and an overwhelming tendency, across the city, to hit snooze on the alarm and sleep just a moment longer.

Taako gets up into a new year, one that’s just the same as the old one, which was the same as the one before, and before that, except now in his bed there’s a man who came to him in the middle of the night and confessed impossible things to him, that made him rethink everything he knows and knew, that miraculously makes Taako feel like maybe he isn’t dead in his own skin, that maybe there are things in the world worth experiencing, and maybe he’d like to stick around to see them just a little more.

Taako puts on a warm sweatshirt and pants. He ties up his hair into his practical bun, and he looks at himself in the mirror– 

And she’s there. 

She looks back at him with his eyes, her eyes, and for a moment she exists, she’s breathing in the room with him, she’s here –

And then he closes his eyes, and she isn’t.

He picks up his keys and lighter and pack of smokes from the bowl by his door, and walks out onto the walkways outside his door, and lights up a cigarette and closes his eyes to take a drag –

And Lup isn’t there.

And she never would be again, not really.

And Taako knows that every minute of the rest of his life will always be saturated with the knowledge of her absence. Taako’s going to have to wake up every morning knowing that his sister is gone, really gone, and that the facsimiles of her in pictures and videos and in his reflection will be all he has left to go on. He’ll have to go on knowing that all information of Lup is past tense. That there will never be any new memories of her, and he’ll have to make do with the few he has left.

He’ll never be able to say “I have a sister” ever again. There’ll be no more “twin time” or bad movies or hustling stupid pricks at pool. No nicknames he hates and no bad singing from the shower in her voice and no one to throw flour at him while baking and no  _ Lup _ . Lup, who was infinite, who was everything, who seemed to create the universe with her bare hands and imbue meaning into it through her very existence, had been made finite.

Taako can see, in his mind’s eye, his two selves overlapped atop each other in frightening vividness and sharpness. One from before, and one from after. A soul, and a ghost, and he still doesn’t know how to reconcile them. The Taako he sees in the mirror doesn’t feel like himself – even after three four years without her, Taako can’t conceive of himself as himself when he has to be someone who doesn’t have Lup attached to his hip.

But he has to.

That’s the very worst part – he’s  _ got _ to, because there’s a person lying in his bed, sleeping late after a late night, who is worth being a person for, and Taako has to re-learn how to have an identity that more than a re-made Taako in the old one’s place. He can’t live as a before and an after, and he can’t just stop living at all. He’s  _ got _ to live, because he’s seen there are things to live for. And because Kravitz wants him there, to live beside him, and Taako, for once, is able to admit how much he wants that too.

All this time he’s thought he never got any better because there was no better to get, and maybe he still believes it, but –

But for a minute, this last year, Taako got a glimpse of a life that could be. One where he is a person. One where good things can happen too. And even though happiness, happiness without Lup, sounds impossible, improbable, inconceivable in the highest order, Taako went out on a date with Kravitz last year, and sat under a willow tree in a riverside park, and looked into the eyes of the man who might very well be his soulmate, and thought to himself that he was glad he was there to see them.

And maybe that will have to be enough.

Taako breathes in, and breathes out, and lets the cold air sting his lungs and makes them ache, and takes a drag from his cigarette, and lets them ache from that too.

He’s going to miss her so much, forever.

It isn’t fair, he thinks, that Lup is gone, and Taako was left in her place. When has he ever done anything as extraordinary as Lup? Lup was going to save the world. Taako caters fancy parties for rich people. Lup was the half of them that would always reach out, and seek out new worlds, and speak out in what she cared about, and was moral, and kept trying no matter what, and it got her killed. And  _ Taako’s _ the one out of the both of them that’s left? Is  _ Taako _ supposed to be able to carry on both of their legacy alone?

The world is covered in a blanket of snow. And Taako’s hundreds of miles from home, standing alone in the frigid morning, mourning Lup, who is gone, and who’s left Taako holding the bag for both of them.

“You couldn’t’ve just stuck around, could you,” he says, flatly, into the silent air.

A breeze shakes a tree down on the street, and Taako watches as flurries of snow come loose from the branches, drifting slowly down to join their fellows on the earth. 

“Yeah,” he says, to no one. “I know.”

And just like that, the moment passes, and Taako’s cold enough and tired enough to go back in. 

He studies the cigarette between his fingers, before letting it drop to the pavement and grinding it out under his sole. Maybe it’ll be his last, he thinks. After all, Kravitz hates them, and by the look of things, it seems like he’ll be sticking around for a while.

“And me,” Taako says to the air. “I’m sticking around too. Fuck, I can’t believe I have to care about my health now.  _ You _ never had to,” he grumbles, and breathes deep through the tears threatening to well up in his eyes, and slips back inside. 

The couch blanket’s been thrown over the back. He forgot to fold it, last night, when he and Kravitz went to bed.

He ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth, quiet as he can. Kravitz is still asleep, starfished out across Taako’s bed, looking lovely and miraculous, and when he wakes, Taako won’t want to kiss him with smoke on his breath.

He’s turning off the bathroom light when he hears, from the bedroom, the shifting of fabric, and a deep inhale, and half a vocalization. He turns.

“C’me back t’ bed,” Kravitz groans, one hand wandering out of the cocoon of sheets to grope blindly in Taako’s direction. He’s not remotely a morning person. Taako loves it, these soft moments of Kravitz, when he goes gentle and kind, and he thinks about how he tried, and tried, to give them up, and how wrong he was. How close he came, of his own volition, to never seeing them again, and what a tragedy it would’ve been.

He pads across the room and settles on the bed, next to him, atop the covers. 

“Morning, handsome,” he says. He takes Kravitz's hand and runs his thumb in little circles over his smooth skin. He loves him. Now, in the morning, and the thought flows like clear water. Someday, Taako will tell him in so many words, and then he’ll have to be hard pressed to stop telling him.

Kravitz groans again, opens his eyes.

“Morning,” Kravitz says. His eyes flicker over Taako’s body. “You’re dressed.” 

“Mm,” Taako hums. “I was restless. Didn’t want to disturb you.” Kravitz yawns. Taako admires every line of his body, every movement of his breath in his lungs, and revels, and revels, and revels.

“M’ sorry,” Kravitz says. “I should get up. I didn’t mean to sleep so late–”

“No,” Taako interrupts him. He takes Kravitz’s hand and kisses it, uncharacteristic for him, and then turns it over, carried away, and kisses his wrist, too. He hears Kravitz’s breath catch. 

“No,” Taako says again, lips still pressed against Kravitz’s skin. “You stay right where you are. You stay right there as long as you like.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the read! It's been a minute since I posted, but as always, the Candlenights exchange has brought the creativity rushing back in. I hope you enjoyed this fic; the story of Taako trying to make his way through the world without his sister, especially in this au, has been dear to me for a long time. I'm so happy I got the chance to explore it here. 
> 
> This is a hard time, lovelies, for all of us. Please take care of yourselves. Seek justice where it must be sought, and act with compassion to those who need it. Remember each other. 
> 
> All my love,  
> Desiree <3


End file.
